Unexpected and Unintended
by TheRedBones
Summary: Airemis Took, half-elf half-hobbit, never expected to embark on an adventure with her cousin Bilbo and a band of rowdy dwarves, and she certainly never expected to find herself drawn to a certain surly, elf-hating dwarf king. But as she learns more about Thorin Oakenshield she begins to realize that they might not be so different after all. Thorin/OC, slow build, future smut.
1. Chapter 1

First story for The Hobbit, so it goes without saying that I own nothing that pertains to the movie or novel, although I do own my original character!

* * *

Chapter One: A Company of Dwarves

* * *

When Airemis Took spontaneously decided to drop in on her favorite cousin for a visit she never thought that her life would be irrevocably altered. After all, Bilbo Baggins was a respectable hobbit, never indulging in such distasteful pastimes as adventures, of which Airemis herself had partaken of and quite enjoyed. Bilbo never did nor said anything unexpected, Airemis never said nor did anything that was expected. And yet, despite the vast differences in their ways, Airemis and Bilbo had always been close as children and often wrote to one another as adults. Hardly a week went on without a letter from one or the other, and it wasn't unexpected for an intermittent visit.

So it was a sunny morning that saw Airemis Took making her way through Hobbiton, nodding to the hobbits out tending their gardens and those sitting on stoops smoking pipes. Most nodded back or waved hello, though Airemis wasn't so naïve as to think that the moment she wandered out of earshot that they weren't whispering about her: "There goes that Airemis Took. An odd one, if there ever was. Half-elf and half-hobbit, and a Took to boot! Bound to be trouble from the moment she were born, mark my words!"

She had heard it all, had seen the disapproving looks shot her way from hobbit holes all over the Shire. It was nothing new, although she had thought that the novelty of her situation would have worn off by now. She had travelled through these parts hundreds of times, but gossip was never outdated in the Shire, and hobbits loved nothing more than a good story (especially at meal-time). Airemis paid no heed, and as The Hill drew closer her excitement mounted. It had been nearly eight months since she had seen Bilbo, far too long in her opinion.

She turned up the walk that circled Bag End, nearly running in her haste, and almost didn't notice the figure coming her way from the direction of her cousin's house. She skidded to a halt a few feet before the tall robed figure and craned her neck back to look into the stranger's face, only to choke in recognition.

"It cannot be Gandalf the Wandering Wizard?" Airemis stared up into a pair of twinkling eyes beneath familiar bushy brows.

Gandalf chuckled and bowed his head in recognition. "My dear Airemis Took. It has been years since I beheld your face and yet, unlike myself, time has barely made its mark upon you."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Airemis said, flippantly, "you look much the same as ever."

"I'm not sure if that was a compliment," Gandalf said, still chuckling.

Airemis just smiled and gestured in the direction of Bilbo's door. "Are you coming from my cousin's home?"

"That I am. I have propositioned Mr. Baggins to partake in an adventure," Gandalf said, watching her from beneath his hairy brows. He seemed to be sizing her up.

Airemis whistled. "And he promptly, but politely, dismissed you, I'd bet? I've been trying to convince Bilbo to go on adventures with me since we were children, to visit my elf kin at the very least, but he never would. He's too much a Baggins and too little a Took in that regard."

Gandalf leaned on his staff and quietly appraised her for a moment before nodding his head to himself and muttering, "Yes, perhaps fifteen would be better."

"Pardon me? Fifteen what?" Airemis's elven hearing hadn't failed her yet.

Gandalf just smiled and tipped his hat at her in farewell. "Until next time," he said and began to walk back the way she had just come. Airemis watched him go in confused silence until his tall hat disappeared from view. As soon as Gandalf was gone, she started toward Bilbo's home again, though with a little less exuberance than before as she pondered over the wizard's cryptic last remarks.

When she approached Bag End Airemis noticed a strange mark on the door, left, she knew, by Gandalf, though for what purpose she couldn't guess. She shook it off and knocked on the door. It took several moments before the door inched open and Bilbo's voice carried out saying, "We'll have no adventures here, thank you." The door started to close again and Airemis shoved her foot inside before it could close completely.

"Are you so quick to turn away a guest at the door?"

The door swung back open and there was Bilbo's astonished and relieved face. "Oh, Airemis! What a pleasant surprise. Please come in and regale me with stories of your travels! I've just made tea and was about to serve up some cakes."

"Just tea for me, if you please," Airemis said, hanging her traveling cloak on a peg in the entryway and dropping her bag. If her attire, a long green tunic, tight fitting trousers and molded boots, were a surprise to Bilbo he didn't show it.

"Certainly," he said, scuttling off toward the kitchen. "I often forget that while you are half hobbit, your appetite leans more toward the elf in you. I remember how the Old Took used to try and bribe you into eating, always saying that you were nothing but skin and bones."

"I often despaired at his attempts to fatten me up," Airemis said. "There were so many other things I would rather have been doing."

"Like running off to Rivendale all on your own at every whipstitch?" Bilbo popped up beside her with a steaming teacup in hand, which she accepted gratefully.

"Precisely," she said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. Bilbo plopped down across from her. Seated they were right at eye level with one another, though Airemis was just a bit taller than Bilbo when standing. It seemed that the only hobbit traits she had inherited from her father was a short stature and a head full of thick brown curls. Aside from those distinct characteristics she looked very much like an elf in miniature: pointy ears, sharp eyes, naturally slender physique, and a face that was nearly too lovely to behold.

"Where have you been living of late? Not still in Frogmorton?" Bilbo cut into a seed cake, serving himself a very generous portion.

"No, I was traveling in South Farthing, visiting a few old friends along the way."

"I didn't know you had many friends in the South Farthing," Bilbo said suspiciously. "In fact, I rather thought most folk in that area believed you a menace, and a bad influence on young hobbits."

Airemis laughed. "Perhaps I was too generous with the term _friends_. What I meant was _acquaintances _whose assistance I required."

"Assistance with what?" Bilbo looked at her curiously.

Airemis tapped her fingers against the side of her cup and answered, "I was interested in buying a bit of real estate, but it would seem that no one is inclined to sell to me."

"Real estate? You are looking to settle down? Give up on your adventures and live a respectable life?" Bilbo looked shocked.

"No, not entirely. I am looking to take up a permanent residence, though I don't plan on being there all the time. I do like my adventures," Airemis said.

"And that is probably the reason that no one will sell to you around these parts," Bilbo said. "Adventures are a nasty business. I had to turn one such adventure-seeker away today myself."

"So I saw," Airemis said. "Gandalf himself came to call on your services, and, like the respectable hobbit you are, you sent him off on his way."

"Of course," Bilbo said, taking no notice (or perhaps choosing to ignore) the teasing tone of her voice. "But enough of that unpleasantness. Tell me of your trips to Rivendale! That is where your latest letters were sent from, were they not? Do tell me of the elves!"

"What do you want to know of elves that you haven't learned from my company already?"

"I mean real elves!"

"Am I not a real elf? At least by half?" Airemis laughed.

"You know what I mean," Bilbo said, scooting closer in his seat. Despite his insistence that adventures were a nasty business, Bilbo was always eager to hear about her trips to visit the elves. And so, for the next several hours they sat around the table exchanging tales, Airemis regaling him with stories of Rivendale and the lands outside the Shire, of the dangers on the road and her more recent combat training, and Bilbo spoke in length about the goings on of the Shire and what new flowers he planned on planting in his garden.

After a while Bilbo rose to tend the fire and start on supper, inviting Airemis to claim a bedroom for he insisted that she stay that night and possibly the next. She left him to his business, gathering up the bag she had abandoned in the hall and carrying it to her favorite guest bedroom. It wasn't the largest or the nicest, but it had the best view of southern roads of Hobbiton, all the way down The Hill. She tossed her bag on the bed, reminding herself to bother Bilbo for some provisions before she left out again. She was running low on elven bread, and wouldn't make it two days into a return journey before she ran out completely.

Airemis sat down on the bed and looked about the room. She had always loved Bag End, even when she was just a child and would come round to visit with her father. It was a place of warmth and comfort, where she had always felt welcomed and safe. This wasn't always true in the Shire, where the other hobbits were suspicious of her heritage and disdainful of her wanderings. Neither did she feel completely at home in Rviendale. The elves were always civil, though she knew that they would never truly accept her as one of them. She was tiny in comparison, and did not possess the same inherent grace and nobility of the other elves. She had tried to assimilate, traveling from Rivendale to Lothlorien to Greenwood, but never feeling at home anywhere. Sometimes, Airemis feared that she would never find her place. The only place she ever felt at home was with her favorite cousin.

She and Bilbo had spent many summers together as kids, running around the Shire and pretending to be great adventurers off to visit elves and battle goblins. As the years had progressed, however, Bilbo had grown from a rambunctious youth into a mature hobbit with no more desire for adventure. Airemis wondered how he would fare against the will of a wizard.

Just as Airemis was rising from the bed to go seek out her cousin's company once more there came an unexpected sound: a knock at the door. She heard Bilbo rushing to answer the door just as she emerged into the hall. As the door swung open, however, it was not the face Airemis (nor Bilbo, for that matter) had thought to see. Instead of Gandalf—back to proposition Bilbo again, as she had expected—there was a dwarf on the porch.

The dwarf was broad and rough looking, with a thick nose and a wiry beard. He pushed inside and turned to Bilbo as though he had been expected. With a swift bow the dwarf said, "Dwalin, at your service."

"Bilbo Baggins at yours!" Her poor cousin was too surprised to say anything else. Airemis walked forward, drawing the attention of the dwarf.

Dwalin turned and gave her an incredulous stare. "I was not aware you had a wife, hobbit."

"He doesn't," Airemis said. "Though he does have a cousin. Airemis Took is my name, and no need to introduce yourself," she said, when it looked as though Dwalin was about to bow to her as well, "I already overheard you."

"Well, I was just preparing dinner," Bilbo said, still looking a bit flustered. "Please join us."

Dwalin spared Airemis another confused glance, obviously cottoning on to the fact that she couldn't be a hobbit, despite her small stature, before he turned back to Bilbo and nodded in ascent.

They all sat down at the table and started in on the roast fish and drop biscuits, though Dwalin ate decidedly more than either Bilbo or Airemis. No one spoke much, though there was a fair bit of snorting and smacking. Soon, however, their uncomfortable silence was broken by another knock at the door. Bilbo jumped up and went out to the hall to answer it. Airemis was certain that this time it must be Gandalf, here to explain the arrival of the dwarf Dwalin. But when Bilbo arrived in the kitchen, looking more astounded than before, it was in the company of another dwarf and not the wizard.

"Balin, at you service," the white haired dwarf said, when he spotted Airemis at the table.

She quickly introduced herself and offered up her seat, as she had finished eating already. Balin accepted with a grateful nod, though like Dwalin, he kept sending inquiring looks her way.

Airemis gave Bilbo's shoulder an encouraging squeeze as he offered up tea and beer and his very best cakes to the two dwarves. Just as he was heading for the pantry there came a ringing at the bell, followed by another. He turned toward the hall in exasperation but Airemis held up her hand. "I've got the door, cousin. You just worry about the cakes."

She didn't wait for his response, but headed for the door, knowing better than to expect Gandalf this time. She opened the door to see two more dwarves, both decidedly younger and far more handsome than the other two. The dwarves looked down at her in surprise, obviously as shocked by her appearance (and mere presence) as she was of theirs.

After a few moments of silence, Airemis cleared her throat and said, "Hello there, dwarves. Fancy standing on the mat all night, or do you have business with my cousin?"

Her teasing seemed to snap them from their trance and both dwarves bowed low to her. First one and then the other took her hand and kissed the back of it before introducing themselves.

"Fili."

"And Kili."

"At your service," they said in unison.

"Airemis Took, at yours," she said, gesturing them inside. "Though I suspect it is Bilbo whom you seek. He's in the kitchen along with the other two."

"Yes, we have come seeking a Mr. Boggins," Kili said, smiling at her.

Airemis chuckled and lead them into the kitchen. She nodded at Bilbo when they entered. "Well, Mr. _Boggins _it appears you have more guests."

Bilbo flitted about, finding more chairs and bringing out more food and beer for the newcomers. Airemis tried to help him, but Bilbo waved her to a seat, stating, rather forcefully, that she too was a guest. So she sat between Kili and Fili (at their beckoning) and listened to the dwarves prattle on about mines and gold, which did not interest her in slightest, and then about goblins and dragons, which did interest her quite a bit.

It wasn't long before another knock sounded at the door. This time a frustrated Bilbo stormed into the hall saying that he had quite enough dwarves to entertain and that no more would be welcome in Bag End. Airemis followed him into the hall and watched as he opened the door and no less than eight dwarves fell into the entryway. Behind them loomed the tall shadow of none other than Gandalf. The wizard was leaning on his staff and laughing. When he caught Airemis's eye he winked.

The dwarves all jumped to their feet and made introductions: Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Oin, Gloin, Ori, Nori and Dori all bowed low and made their way into the kitchen, settling in and calling for more food and drinks. Airemis watched Bilbo stalk into the pantry, but she hung back in the hall to speak with Gandalf.

"What is this all about?"

Gandalf's eyes twinkled and a smile spread over his lips. "That, my dear, you shall soon find out. But first, we must await the arrival of our last co-conspirator."

"Co-conspirator?" Airemis couldn't help the thrill of excitement that the word inspired. Gandalf seemed to recognize this and his smile grew wider.

"I knew I could count on a Took to take interest in such matters. And I think I might have to count on the very same Took to help convince a certain Baggins to take up the quest as well."

"Oh sure, should be easy," Airemis said, shaking her head. "I must admit, though, that I feel at a distinct disadvantage."

"How so," Gandalf asked.

"This is a company of dwarves and I am an elf, by half."

"Yes," Gandalf said.

"Most dwarves hate—or at least distrust elves. Even if they haven't found me out yet, they will soon. And I will not hide who I am," Airemis said.

"And I would not ask it of you," Gandalf said, sincerely. "It is true that you may endure the distrust and disdain of the dwarves for a time, but they will soon learn to value you as a member of this company."

"Should I choose to join it," Airemis teased.

"And we both know you shall, no matter the dangers involved," Gandalf said.

"Should they choose to let me."

"They shall for I have chosen you myself, and that means something!" With that Gandalf moved to join the rowdy gathering of dwarves and Airemis followed after. The dwarves were attacking the spread of food and the pints of beer, talking and laughing raucously. Bombur, the fattest of the dwarves, was devouring cheese by the wheels, and Ori was apparently attempting to burp the Dwarven alphabet.

At her return, Kili and Fili abruptly pushed Oin from the seat between them and beckoned her to sit again. As soon as she did they closed ranks around her and began to question her about her relationship to Bilbo.

"So you are Mr. Boggins's cousin?" Kili asked.

"On your mother or your father's side?" Fili asked.

"On my father's side," she answered. "My father was Bilbo's mother's brother."

"And your mother?" Fili asked.

"Was no relation to either of them," Airemis said. "That would be incest, and it is generally frowned upon."

"Was she from around these parts?" Kili asked, unperturbed.

Airemis realized at once that the brothers were attempting to uncover the mystery of her heritage, obviously not believing she could be a hobbit like Bilbo. "She was not from Hobbiton."

"Where did she hale from?" Fili asked.

"East."

"East of where?" Kili asked.

"East of here, of course, or why else mention East?" Airemis nearly laughed at their looks of confusion and mild frustration. If they would not come right out and ask, then she would not give up the information so easily.

Both Fili and Kili looked ready to speak again when another knock sounded at the door. Everyone quieted immediately. Whoever was at the door must be very important, Airemis thought, to elicit such a response.

"He is here," Gandalf said, and the entire company rose from their seats and moved into the hall. Airemis hung back, leaning in the doorjamb as Gandalf opened the door to admit the final member of this gathering.

The dwarf at the door was unlike any of the others. He was tall, by dwarf standards, broad and thick with muscle born from battle and hard labor. His hair was long and brown, silvered delicately from age, though his face was not burdened with many lines or wrinkles. His eyes were a sharp wintergreen, set deep beneath thick brows and over a aristocratic nose. With a grim and regal bearing he stepped into the hall, addressing Gandalf in a deep, rich voice, "Gandalf. I lost my way a few times and would not have found this place if not for the mark on the door."

"Mark? There is no mark upon that door. I just had it painted last week!" Bilbo seemed to have finally found his voice, and with it his indignation.

"There is a mark, for I put it there myself," Gandalf said. "And now Bilbo, I am pleased to introduce you to the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

At the name Airemis had a sudden burst of recognition. She had heard of Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Mountain during her brief stay in Greenwood Forest. She had also heard of Thranduil's betrayal, though the elves of Greenwood did not tell the tale that way.

"So this is the hobbit," Thorin said, giving Bilbo a thorough once-over. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

The dwarves all laughed and Airemis frowned. She couldn't abide anyone insulting her beloved cousin, especially after he had offered up his hospitality to a bunch of strange and uninvited dwarves. "He might look like a grocer, but I'd wager he has more courage in his heart than any of you, when put in a pinch."

Thorin, and all of the dwarves, turned to her at her outburst. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared back, feeling less inclined to tease and joke with the dwarves than she had before they had laughed at Bilbo.

"And who might you be?" Thorin took a step forward, eying her suspiciously.

"Airemis Took. The grocer's cousin," she said.

"Airemis is a skilled hunter and a fair tracker. She is handy with a sword and can be counted on in a fight," Gandalf said.

Thorin moved closer to Airemis, stopping a few feet from her. He stared down at her, his brows creased with distrust. "You have an elvish look about you, and yet your stature is that of a Halfling. What are you?"

Airemis swallowed and pushed away from the doorjamb. This moment had come sooner than she would have liked. She looked up into Thorin Oakenshield's piercing gaze and answered truthfully. "I am both elf and hobbit."

Thorin's expression turned furious and he spun to face Gandalf. "An elf?"

"By half," Gandalf said.

"We need not nor want any elves in this company," Thorin said, and several of the dwarves nodded ascent, though Airemis noticed that Fili and Kili were not among them.

"You asked me to find the fourteenth member of your company, and I found him and another. You can take them or stick to a company of thirteen and suffer all the bad luck for it," Gandalf said. "I will stand by my choices in both Bilbo and Airemis. They are more than they appear and will be invaluable to this journey."

Thorin seemed to mull this over for a moment. He obviously trusted Gandalf, though he resented the wizard's decisions. Dwarves were a stubborn people, and Airemis thought that Thorin must be especially so, if the set of his jaw and the long moments of deliberation were any indication. But finally he nodded in half-hearted ascent, shot Airemis a look of disgust and hatred, and moved into the kitchen. It was obvious that the matter was far from settled, though.

The other dwarves followed after Thorin, and Gandalf, as he moved to passed her, placed a hand on Airemis's shoulder and whispered, "In time, they will learn to trust you."

Airemis just sighed and followed her confused and befuddled cousin into the kitchen to take part in a meeting that would change all of their lives.

* * *

Chapter One down, next time: The Quest revealed! And an unfortunate encounter with Trolls!


	2. Chapter 2

Wow, thanks for the great response to Chapter One! I wasn't expecting so many comments, but please know that they are much appreciated!

Obviously, I am borrowing this story and most of the characters from Mr. Tolkien and Mr. Jackson. Although, I am taking creative license with it. Some of the events and dialogue have been altered to meet my purposes, and I have not included the songs into the actual narrative, though I do like the songs. Just a little disclaimer.

* * *

Chapter Two: Unwanted Advice

* * *

Back in Bilbo's dining room, the dwarves assembled around the table with Thorin and Gandalf at the head. Airemis stood in the corner, still fuming over the dwarves' treatment of her cousin and not feeling quite so merry as she had before. Normally she enjoyed the company of others, especially when stories were being passed around of travels and battles fought, but at that moment she didn't think she would make for a good companion and kept to herself, ignoring the looks being sent her way from Bilbo and Fili and Kili.

Thorin spoke in length of his meeting with the dwarves from the Iron Hills, of Dain and his kin, though every now and again he would spare a dark scowl in Airemis's direction, as if he were trying to tell her without words that she was not welcome in this conversation.

"What says Dain? Will he join us?" Dori asked.

Thorin shook his head, his face falling as he said, "Dain will not join us. He said that this is our quest, and ours alone."

Bilbo suddenly popped up at Gandalf's elbow. "You're going on a quest?"

Airemis couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. It seemed her cousin was more interested in adventures than he liked to admit.

"Ah, Bilbo, my dear hobbit, fetch a lamp and let us have a little light on this." Gandalf sat forward and spread out a piece of rolled parchment across the table. Without realizing it, Airemis moved away from the corner and came closer for a better look. She might have approached the table further if not for the acid looks that both Thorin and Dwalin shot her. Instead she paused a few feet away, relying on her sharp elven sight to study the map.

Bilbo returned promptly with a glass lamp and leaned over Thorin's shoulder. Bilbo had always had a great love of maps, though his were mostly of the Shire and closely surrounding areas.

The dwarves began speaking excitedly again, mostly about the map and its contents. Airemis looked upon the crude drawing of the Lonely Mountain, of the lost dwarven kingdom of Erebor, and, more importantly, at the red figure floating above it on the map: the dragon.

"Without Dain and his kin this will be an impossible task. We are but a small group of thirteen, fifteen if we count Master Baggins and Mistress Took. And we are not a gathering of the strongest, nor the wisest," Balin said.

There was a bit of an uproar at this, mostly outraged cries of, "Who is he calling dim?" and "By my beard, I'm as strong as I ever was!" And poor Oin, whose hearing was much depleted said, "If we're ordering up desserts, I'll not say no to a bit of rum cake."

"We are warriors," Fili said, "all of us."

"Yes," said Kili. "And you are forgetting that we have Gandalf! He must have killed hundreds of dragons in his day! Haven't you, Gandalf?"

"How many dragons would you say you've slain?" Dori asked. The whole company of dwarves turned expectantly to Gandalf, who suddenly choked a bit on his pipe smoke.

"Well," Dori insisted, losing patience. "How many is it?"

Suddenly the whole company exploded again, talking over one another and banging fists on the table. Bilbo flitted around, trying to calm the dwarves enough to spare his table and the knick-knacks on the walls and nearby shelves.

"Enough!" Thorin rose to his feet. "Oin has read the signs. When the first thrush returns to the mountain, the reign of the beast will be over. If we have read the signs do you not think others have as well? No one has seen Smaug for over sixty years. Our fortunes may yet be unguarded. Do we leave it so that any may stake claim to our inheritance?"

The dwarves responded with a resounding, "No!"

"We shall take back Erebor!" Thorin boomed.

"Yes," echoed the dwarves.

"The gate has been sealed," Balin yelled over the din. "There is no way inside the mountain."

The other dwarves seemed to deflate at these words, exchanging hopeless looks and muttering solemnly to one another.

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true," Gandalf said. He pointed one long, thin finger at the map, or more specifically, to a niche indicated on the mountain. "You see that rune on the West side of the map, and the hand pointing to it from the other runes? That marks a hidden passage to the Lower Halls, accessible only with this," and he pulled from his robes an oblong object which he presented to Thorin.

"How came you by this?" Thorin took the object—a key, as it turned out—and held it up in the light. It was long and shaped unlike any key that Airemis had ever seen.

"It was given to me by your father, Thrain, for safe keeping. And now I pass it on to you," Gandalf said.

Thorin gave the wizard a look of wonder and curiosity, obviously wishing to hear more about how the key had come into his possession. But he withheld his questions and tucked the key into his pocket.

"But what of the beast, if it should still remain dormant within the keep?" Airemis asked. She had spoken softly, but everyone heard and grew quiet, turning and staring at her as if noticing her presence for the very first time.

"Beast?" Bilbo looked at her in confusion.

"What know you of Smaug?" Thorin asked gruffly, dismissively.

Airemis felt her hackles rise, but resisted the urge to bite back. Instead she addressed her cousin by saying, "There is a beast that infects the mountain, hoarding all of the treasure. Or at least, there was a beast, and it would be safest to assume he yet lingers within Erebor and to plan accordingly."

"That is why we need a burglar," Gloin said.

"Aye, and an expert one at that," Bilbo said, nodding his head.

"And are you?" Dori asked.

Bilbo looked confused. "Am I what?"

"An expert burglar?"

"Me? No, oh no, no," Bilbo said, a bit frantically.

"Did you hear that?" Oin said. "He says he's an expert burglar!"

"No, no! I am no burglar. I've never stolen a thing in my life!" Bilbo said, fretfully.

"Just as I thought," Thorin said. "He's better off staying behind." Bilbo nodded enthusiastically at this.

"The wild is no place for gentle folk who cannot fend for themselves," Dwalin said.

Suddenly Gandalf shot up in his seat and a great shadow seemed to fall over the entire room. Even Airemis took a precautionary step back. "If I say he is a burglar, then a burglar he is! Or will be, when the time comes. There is a lot more in him than any of you may guess, and more than he knows himself!"

All of the dwarves settled down, though most still looked doubtful. Bilbo, for his part, was beginning to look a little green around the gills, so Thorin called for Balin to give him a contract (and grudgingly requested one be drafted for Airemis as well). After a time they both took their contracts and began to read them through. Airemis thought it all sounded right and fair enough, but she could hear Bilbo muttering as he read through the section on liability and possible risks.

"Laceration…evisceration…_incineration_?"

"Oh, aye. He'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye," Bofur called to him.

Bilbo, looking faint and more than a little nauseated, leaned forward and braced his hands on his knees, breathing deeply.

"You alright, laddie?" Balin asked with genuine concern.

"Just…just a bit faint," Bilbo huffed.

"Think furnace with wings," Bofur said.

"Definitely need a bit of air," Bilbo muttered.

"Flash of light. Searing pain. Then poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ash."

Airemis chuckled until she saw the look on Bilbo's face. Obviously he did not think Bofur as funny as she did. In fact, he looked as though he were going to pass out. She rushed forward but not in time to catch him before he fell to the ground.

Airemis sighed but took the poor hobbit by the arms and began to drag him into the parlor. Kili and Fili came to her assistance immediately and hoisted Bilbo between them. They lowered him into his favorite armchair and she thanked them both before she set about waking him by lightly slapping him on the cheek. As soon as he began to rouse Airemis set off for the kitchen to fetch him a nice mug of tea.

It was as she was approaching the dining room still filled to bursting with dwarves, that she overheard Thorin and Gandalf speaking about her and Bilbo.

"I do not trust the she-elf, Gandalf," Thorin said. "And I have no faith in the halfling's burglaring abilities." Airemis paused in the hall to listen, relying on her heightened hearing.

"If you remember, it was you who came to me, Thorin Oakenshield, to find the fourteenth member of your company. Well, I have done so, and one better if we are to keep score. Bilbo and Airemis have my full faith, and I would hope that you would have enough trust in me to accept my decision."

"Very well," Thorin said, begrudgingly. "I cannot guarantee their safety."

"Understood."

"Nor will I be responsible for their fate."

Airemis didn't listen to any more of the conversation. She walked into the kitchen and prepared Bilbo a strong cup of tea. She knew better than to imagine that the dwarves would be accepting of her. There had long been bad blood between the elves and the dwarves, and Thranduil's betrayal of the old alliance was only more fuel to the fire.

For her part, Airemis had no great love for Thranduil. She shuddered as memories of her last visit to Greenwood, nearly eight years ago, rolled through her mind. He was an arrogant man with too much love for his own collected treasures, though even she had to admit that he cared deeply for the welfare of his people. Still, Airemis had cut her last visit short in fear that if she remained much longer she would become another of Thranduil's unique baubles, placed on display for all to admire. She didn't like to think about her time in Greenwood, and she could understand perfectly why the dwarves would take an ill impression of elves after dealing with the elven king. But to understand their hatred was one matter, to be on the receiving end was another. How quickly they sought to persecute her for her elven heritage, and how quickly they dismissed her hobbit lineage! Although, if their treatment of Bilbo was anything to go on, Airemis wasn't sure if she would rather they thought of her as a Halfling.

As soon as the tea was ready, Airemis walked back to the parlor, dodging past dwarves who were now emerging from the dining room. When she finally made it to Bilbo's side she saw that Gandalf was already there, doing his best to convince the hobbit to take up the quest. Airemis handed off the cup of tea and sat on the arm of Bilbo's chair.

"Did you know that your Old Took's great-granduncle Bullroarer was so huge—for a hobbit—that he could ride a horse? He charged the ranks of the goblins of Mount Gram in the Battle of the Green Fields, and knocked their king Golfibul's head clean off so that it sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit-hole, and thus the battle was won and the game of Golf invented at the very same time."

At this Airemis laughed loudly enough to draw the curious glances of a few dwarves (Thorin himself included), and even Bilbo couldn't stop a small snicker. "I do believe you just made that up," he said to the wizard.

Gandalf shrugged and took the chair opposite from Bilbo and Airemis. "All great stories deserve a bit of embellishment. And should you partake in this journey, you'll have a tale or two to tell when you come back."

"And can you guarantee that I will come back?" Bilbo asked around the rim of his mug.

Airemis and Gandalf exchanged a look. "No. And if you do, you will not be the same."

Bilbo rose, "That's what I thought. I'm sorry Gandalf, but you've got the wrong hobbit."

"Bilbo, have you not often said that you would like to see the elves for yourself? See mountains and valleys and places unknown? How can you when you refuse to leave your hobbit hole?" Airemis asked.

Bilbo shook his head, "If I said such things it was when I was much younger hobbit."

"We never truly grow out of our desires, Bilbo. Some part of you still longs for adventure," Airemis insisted.

He turned to his cousin then. "I know you will leave with them on this journey, and I wish you good luck and safety. But as for me, I shall remain here."

Airemis said nothing more as Bilbo left the parlor and scuttled off to his bedroom without bidding his uninvited guests goodnight. She remained seated on the arm of the chair, and might have stayed there all evening if not for Gandalf's insistence that she get a good night's rest before they left out on the morrow.

Airemis said goodnight to the wizard and headed for her own guest room, thinking that a bath would be well appreciated before bed. As she emerged into the hallway, however, she was once again waylaid by Fili and Kili.

"We want you to know, Mistress Took, that we take no issues with your heritage," Fili said, without preamble.

"We know that some of our brethren are not so tolerant, but you may count us as friends," Kili said. They both bowed low to her then.

Startled, Airemis didn't quite know what to say. She stared at them in wonder for a moment before her voice found her once more. "And you may count me a friend as well."

The brothers smiled dazzlingly at her and each took a turn kissing her hand again, and then they bade her goodnight and all but disappeared. If she wasn't still so surprised, Airemis might have laughed. Instead she headed for her room, prepared herself a bath in the guest basin, and otherwise locked herself away from the dwarven company that still ransacked her cousin's home.

It was as she was preparing for bed, that she heard the singing commence. She didn't have to be in the room to know whose voice carried through the halls, deep and resonant, echoing into her very bones. Thorin sang of the approaching quest, of reclaiming their home, and the destruction that the dragon had borne upon the land. The other dwarves soon joined in the song, and Airemis thought that never had she heard anything so heartbreaking in all her life. She could understand what it meant to have no home, no place where she truly belonged, and if some part of her had been considering staying behind and not taking up the mantle of this quest, it quickly died out.

Airemis buried herself beneath the covers and enjoyed her last night for many nights in the comfort of a real bed.

* * *

Airemis was up before dawn, already packed and changed into a fresh pair of tightly fitted trousers, a cream colored tunic and protective leather vest, and her favorite pair of supple boots. She allowed herself a few moments to tame her curly hair into a multi-braided up-do, and to stitch the small holes that had begun to grow in the seams of her winter coat. While the weather was generally warm enough during the days for a simple traveling cloak, she would be miserable at night without her coat, especially if they were to make camp anywhere that a fire would be too risky to be kindled.

After she finished with her mending, Airemis left the quiet confines of her room and made for the front door. She could hear the dwarves outside, readying themselves for the journey. She thought about saying goodbye to Bilbo, but she didn't trust herself not to try and convince him to come along, and the last thing he needed was more pressure from her. If he decided to come, Airemis thought, he would have to come to that decision on his own.

When she walked outside the assembled group of dwarves all turned and looked at her in surprise. It seemed that most of the company had assumed that she would be remaining behind with Bilbo. She smiled tensely at them, but said nothing. Only Fili, Kili, Balin and Ori returned her smile, although most of the others didn't bother to scowl or mutter obscenities, which she would take as a good sign.

"If we are ready, then I suggest we start on our way," Gandalf said. "We have much distance to cover."

They made their way down The Hill on foot until the path opened a little wider. There, already burdened with packs and supplies, was a small herd of ponies standing huddled in a green paddock. The dwarves all moved to claim a pony, with Gandalf taking the only full sized horse as his own.

Airemis approached a small white pony, whispering soft words in Elvish when the creature started to shy away. Elves had a way with horses, and all other intelligent beasts, and it didn't take much coaxing before the pony was rubbing its muzzle against her hand and whinnying happily at her.

"You like animals much, lass?" Balin asked from astride his own brown pony.

Airemis loaded her pack and quickly mounted. "Yes. I find they are much like children."

"How so?" Balin looked confused.

"They respond well to sweet words, and are often good judges of character," she said. She took up the reins, patted the pony on the neck, and looked up to see that Thorin was looking at her, calculating and assessing. He made a dismissive noise when their eyes met and turned back to the road.

"Don't be too troubled, lass," Balin said. "He's a bit rough around the edges, and carries a deep distrust for elves."

"I know," Airemis said. "I've heard the tale before."

Balin patted her on the shoulder, "Then I hope that you can understand that Thorin, and the others for that matter, do not object to you on a personal level. And I hope you can have patience and not take too much offense at their prejudices."

"I can try," Airemis said. "But despite my elven blood, patience has never been one of my best attributes."

"Nor one of ours," Balin laughed.

They fell into silence after that, though Airemis felt remarkably better and even participated in the dwarves bet over whether or not her cousin would join the company. "Of course he will. Count me in."

It wasn't much longer before Bilbo's voice called for them to stop and the hobbit was handing his contract over to Balin for review. When all seemed to be in order, Thorin gave the hobbit an annoyed look and said, "Get the Halfling a pony."

"Oh no, I'm quite alright on foot. I've taken a few walking holidays, once as far as Frogmorton…" Bilbo was interrupted when he was suddenly lifted and placed on a pony. He scrabbled for the reins, nearly falling off the side, but was able to right himself.

"Glad to see you made it," Airemis said. She smiled such a wide and genuine smile that a few of the dwarves nearby turned in their saddles to stare.

Bilbo returned the smile and nodded toward Gandalf, who had slowed enough to join them. There was a sudden flurry of purses sailing through the air, and Bilbo turned to the wizard and his cousin in confusion. "What's that all about?"

"Well, it seems that they placed bets as to whether or not you would show," Gandalf said.

"And what did you think?" Bilbo asked.

Suddenly a small purse flew straight toward Gandalf, which he caught and quickly tucked into his robes. Another was tossed to Airemis a few short seconds later. "My dear hobbit, I never doubted you for a second."

"A good thing you came along when you did. I bet double or nothing that you'd join us before lunch," Airemis said.

Despite another short delay in which Bilbo stopped the entire company because he had forgotten his handkerchief, they traveled without rest all day, eating lunch on horseback, until evening fell. They made camp that night on a sheltered cliff face.

Airemis stretched her stiff limbs and gratefully accepted a hot bowl of stew from Bofur, who seemed to be warming up to her. She went to edge of the cliff and looked out at the sky as she ate. This was a sight she could never grow weary of: a star dusted sky. She had spent many nights sleeping under the stars, usually bundled up in a tree somewhere, and for some reason they always gave her comfort.

"Not too close to the edge, lass," Dwalin said from close behind her. "Wouldn't want you to take a tumble off the cliff, would we?" But from the tone of his voice, it sounded as though that was exactly what he'd like to happen.

Airemis smiled at him sweetly. "Your concern is truly touching." She finished off her dinner, scrubbed out the bowl, and searched out a place to make bed, finally choosing a deep-set niche in the cliff face that she had to climb a scraggly little tree to reach. She rolled out her bedroll and laid back, staring through the boughs at the stars and moon and listening as the dwarves settled in and divided up the watch. No one asked her to take a shift, perhaps because they didn't trust her enough for that sort of responsibility yet.

She closed her eyes and drifted off, but too soon she was awoken again to the sound of a high-pitched screech carrying on the wind. The sound was familiar, something she had often heard on the road at night, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

"What was that?" Bilbo asked from below. He was standing just outside the firelight.

"Orcs," Fili said. "There will be dozens of them out there."

"They come at night," Kili said. "Attack while people are sleeping. There are no screams. Just lots of blood."

As Bilbo turned to shoot an apprehensive glance toward the direction of the sound, the brothers exchanged a look and laughed softly.

"You think that's funny?" Thorin demanded suddenly.

Fili, Kili, Bilbo and Airemis (who was mostly overlooked from her spot above the campfire) all startled at his voice. Kili and Fili looked suddenly abashed. "We didn't mean anything by it."

"No, of course not," Thorin said, and turned his back on them as he stalked to the edge of the cliff. "You know nothing of the world."

Airemis sat up in her bedroll, and stared at Thorin's back. It seemed an awfully harsh reaction to a simple joke, but then Balin approached.

"Do not take it to heart, laddies. Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs." And Balin launched into a tale of a dreadful battle to reclaim the dwarven kingdom of Moria and the beheading of King Thror by the pale orc, Azog. The story culminated in Thorin's defeat of the orc, and the ultimate victory for the dwarves, though many had died in the effort. "And I thought to myself," Balin said, all attention on him as he spoke, "there is one whom I could follow. There is one whom I could call King."

All the dwarves had roused from their sleep to listen to the tale, and all looked upon their leader with awe. Thorin, for his part, turned to face the company without any indication that he had heard what was being said about him. He walked passed the others without acknowledging their looks of wonderment.

"And what of the pale orc? What became of him?" Bilbo asked.

"He slunk back into the shadows," Thorin answered. He stopped a few feet from the hobbit and his hostile gaze shifted up to lock with Airemis's. "He died of his wounds long ago."

Airemis recoiled from the dwarf king's angry stare. She had been as moved by Balin's tale as any of them, so entranced by Thorin's bravery and regality that she had nearly forgotten how much he despised her. But all it took to remind her of the reality of her situation was one look from him. She slept no more that night.

* * *

They traveled faster and farther the next day, traversing mostly over plains and flatlands, and not so much the winding, hilly terrain that bordered the Shire. Airemis stuck close to Kili and Fili, laughing as they told her jokes (most of which were inappropriate to tell in the presence of a lady) and performed tricks. She quite enjoyed watching them juggle apples, but the trick was interrupted by Bombur who, hungry as always, stole a few from the air.

They broke for the evening early in a small clearing. Airemis dismounted, feeling uneasy as she looked upon the blackened skeleton of a house and barn. Gandalf and Thorin were standing within the remains of the house, speaking so low that not even Airemis could hear them until Gandalf stormed off, muttering about the stubbornness of dwarves.

"Where are you going?" Bilbo asked.

"I'm going to seek the company of the only one around here who has any sense," Gandalf said.

"And who is that?"

"Myself, Mr. Baggins." And with that Gandalf disappeared into the trees.

"What was that about?" Bilbo asked Airemis.

She shrugged, not really paying attention. She had a bad feeling about the ruins of the homestead. Something had caused that destruction, and her instincts told her that it wasn't any natural cause. Airemis looked to Thorin, who was delegating tasks to the other dwarves. He had seemed to be in a better mood that day than she had observed of him before. Still, the thought of incurring his wrath, or even drawing his attention at all, made her stomach twist into uncomfortable knots. But she couldn't leave her thoughts unsaid.

"Thorin?"

At the sound of her voice addressing him, the dwarf spun quickly to face her. Dual expressions of surprise and anger warred across his face. Apparently he had never expected for her to have the audacity to approach him like this. "What is it?" His voice was gruff, decidedly unfriendly.

"A word, if I may?" Airemis motioned with her head toward the far side of the clearing, out of the immediate earshot of any eavesdroppers, of which there were many. All the dwarves were still working to make camp, though it was obvious that they were listening intently.

Thorin took the lead, walking into the shade of the outlying trees. He crossed his arms over his massive chest and waited for her say what she must.

"I think we should keep moving," Airemis said.

Thorin raised one brow. Normally a gesture such as that would have been amusing to Airemis, but on Thorin, it was nothing short of threatening. "And why is that?"

"It is too dangerous to stay here. Something foul has been here recently, and perhaps still lingers nearby," she said.

Thorin gave her a suspicious look. "Have you been speaking with Gandalf?"

Airemis was confused. "About what?"

"Gandalf thinks we should make for Rivendale. Is that the same council you would give me?" The way he said _council _was so derogatory that Airemis couldn't help but flinch.

"I was not going to make such a suggestion. Just that we move on from here." She stared up into his face. Though he hadn't moved any closer as they spoke, Thorin definitely seemed to be looming over her.

It was at this moment that Airemis first took notice of the distinct differences in their stature. She was quite a bit smaller than Thorin, the top of her head barely reaching his chin, and he was much wider and far more heavily muscled than she. One advantage to being built like her elvish kin was that Airemis was quick on her feet and extremely agile, but elves were not known to possess incredible physical strength, and she knew, if he wished, that Thorin would have no difficulty wrapping his hand around her neck and ending her life. Not that she thought him so violent, he certainly hadn't made any such threats against her, hadn't really paid her any attention at all, but she knew he was capable of such a feat. What was more, he knew that she was aware of the great physical advantage he had over her.

"Well, Mistress Took, if I should require your opinion on any matters concerning this journey, I'll be sure to ask," he said and moved to brush passed her. It was a blunt dismissal.

Airemis couldn't help herself, some Tookish part of her had reared its ugly head, and she snapped her arm out, barring his way. Perhaps because he was surprised by the action, or perhaps because he was amused at her attempt to stop him, Thorin paused and turned his attention back to her.

"I know you don't trust me. That's fine. But if things turn out badly then it'll be on your conscience," she said.

His expression turned thunderous. "Don't presume to speak down to me, elf. I will do what I feel is right for this company, and I will not tolerate my decisions being questioned by one such as yourself." He never raised his voice, but the effect of his words was like a slap in the face. Airemis lowered her arm and moved back from him, and Thorin stormed back toward the camp.

Angry and upset at herself for even bothering to voice her concerns to the dwarf king, Airemis did not linger with the company. Instead she set off into the trees to join Fili and Kili where they looked after the ponies.

"What was that all about?" Kili asked, the moment he spotted her.

"It was nothing," she said, plopping down on a mossy log.

"Looked like something from where we were standing," Fili prodded.

Airemis shook her head, not wanting to argue with two of the only friends she seemed to have in this company, when she noticed something odd. "Looks like a couple of the ponies have wandered off."

"What?" The brothers both spun on their heels back toward the small herd, taking a mental head count. Their faces fell at the same moment when they came up two ponies short.

Airemis was about to ask what they should do next when there was a crashing in the underbrush and Bilbo stumbled into the open, clutching a few bowls of stew.

Bilbo noticed the strange looks on the dwarves' faces. "What's the matter?"

"We're supposed to be watching the ponies," Kili said.

"Yes, so?" Bilbo asked, shooting Airemis a flummoxed look.

"And we're missing two," Fili said.

"Should we fetch Thorin?" Bilbo asked. Just the thought of having to look that particular dwarf in the face again had Airemis jumping to her feet.

"Don't be silly," she said. "We'll just have to find them ourselves."

And with that the four of them set off into the woods, Bilbo still toting the bowls of stew. Only a few meters into the foliage they saw the first signs of destruction: trees uprooted and lying on their sides, great gouges in the earth, as if something heavy had been dragged through there.

"What could have done something like this?" Bilbo asked, examining the root-end of a large Adler.

"Trolls," Kili and Fili whispered, and then pointed toward a flicker of firelight in the distance.

Airemis ducked behind a lichen-covered rock, pulling Bilbo with her as the stamping gait of some tremendous creature moved passed. She peeked over the top of the rock just in time to see the mottled back end of a troll moving toward the campfire. It was clutching two more ponies in its giant, lumpy arms.

"No, that's Myrtle and Mindy," Bilbo said. "We have to do something!"

"Yes, do something burglar," Kili said, slapping Bilbo on the back.

"What, no!" Bilbo looked startled by the idea.

"Trolls are slow and dim-witted. You are so small, you can pass unseen by them and free the ponies," Fili said.

"And we will be right behind you," Kili said.

Fili took the bowls from Bilbo and pushed him from their hiding spot. "And remember, if you get into trouble hoot twice like a brown owl and once like a barn owl."

Bilbo stumbled out a few feet, muttering under his breath. He turned to ask the brothers what that was about the owls again, but they had gone, leaving only Airemis behind.

She shrugged at him and said, "Well, this should be interesting."

* * *

So, not too much of the trolls in this chapter, but they will be making a full appearance in the next! (I always liked the trolls, so this should be fun to write!)

Thanks again for the support!


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks again for all of the comments! And thank you to myharlequinromance321 for pointing out that I was spelling Rivendell wrong! My street address is Riverdale lane, so that must have been on my mind. Anyway, thanks for letting me know since I would never have caught that! (That's why writer's need constructive criticism, to help catch these things.)

* * *

Chapter Three: Dinner With Trolls

* * *

Airemis and Bilbo stalked through the undergrowth. They were small enough to hide in the tall grasses and weeds just outside the light of the massive fire. A few short meters away sat three hideous trolls, discussing their dinner plans.

"Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and blimey, if it don't look like mutton again tomorrer," said one troll. The troll next to him sniffled and even from where they were hiding, Airemis and Bilbo could hear the thick sound of mucus sliding down his throat. If that wasn't bad enough, the closer they moved toward the camp, the more the trolls' noxious odor began to assault their noses.

Airemis slapped a hand over her mouth and dry-heaved, suddenly thankful she hadn't eaten any of the stew. Bilbo, whose nose wasn't quite so sensitive, shot her a concerned look. She waved him on, too sick to go any further.

Bilbo slid through the grass, his eyes on the ponies that were corralled behind the trolls. He sent furtive glances toward the trolls, and behind him to where Airemis was still trying to collect herself.

She wished she could be of more help to her beloved cousin, but if she went any closer to the three creatures, she would probably give them away with her gagging and retching. So instead, Airemis retreated back into the tree line, picked out a tall and leafy oak, and began to climb. When she was high enough, she moved further out on the branch to observe what was happening in the troll camp. It took her a moment, but then she spotted Bilbo sneaking behind the congested troll to reach the ponies.

"Ain't mutton. These are prime nags, they are," said another of the trolls. He was wearing what appeared to be a large tent wrapped around his belly and shoulders like an apron.

"I don't like horse," said the snotty-nosed troll. He was the smallest and probably the dimmest. "Not enough fat on 'em."

"We ain't had man-flesh in days, not since we found the farmer," said the troll who was sitting closest to Airemis's tree.

"That farmer was mostly bones," said the snotty troll. "I'm still pickin' pieces of him from between me teeth."

"Enough of your complainin'," said the troll chef. "You'll eat what I serve, or you can eat nothin'."

"More for me, then," said the troll near Airemis.

She moved as close as she dared down the nearest limb, stopping when the foul smell started to lodge in her throat again. Airemis scanned the ground to locate Bilbo again. He was fiddling with the ropes that bound the makeshift pen the ponies had been caged behind. The fence was of crude design, as was anything made by trolls, but the rope was thick and Bilbo had no luck loosening it.

Airemis watched as her cousin sneaked around the smallest troll, and reached for the long curved blade attached to his hip—but too late! The troll rose and reached around to grab his snot rag, and Bilbo was given an intimate look up the creature's loincloth. Airemis bit her lip to keep from laughing at the expression on Bilbo's face. She could only imagine the stench.

The troll sat down once more and Bilbo moved to take hold of the blade again. Airemis, who was starting to get used to the smell, slid a little further down the limb on which she perched. She reached for her own blade, but caught only air. And that's when she remembered that she had left it in her pack, all the way back at the dwarves camp. No way she could abandon her cousin to go and fetch it. She would just have to hope that Bilbo didn't get caught.

But, almost as soon as she had thought it, the smallish troll suddenly began sneezing again and reached for his rag, only to grab Bilbo along with it. The troll blew his nose against the hobbit, pulling back and trailing a long line of mucus, and nearly dropped Bilbo (who was covered in snot and looking almost too disgusted to be afraid) the moment he laid eyes on him.

"Oh," the troll exclaimed. "Look what's come out of me hooter!"

The other trolls gathered behind him and looked down on Bilbo curiously.

"What is it?" One troll asked.

"I don't like the way it wiggles," said the small troll, and flung Bilbo to the ground.

"What are you?" The chef asked.

"A burgl-hobbit," Bilbo said, obviously flustered.

"A burglhobbit? What's that?"

"Can we eat it?"

"We can try!"

The trolls all reached for Bilbo at the same time, but he was too quick for them, darting between their legs. Airemis swore and flung herself from the tree. Her mind raced for ideas and she cursed herself for running away from camp without a weapon. She had been so rattled and upset with from her confrontation with Thorin that she hadn't even considered the possibility that she might need her short sword, despite the danger she had warned the stubborn dwarf about.

She burst into the troll camp, counting on the element of surprise and nothing more. One of the trolls was holding Bilbo upside down and questioning him about whether there were any others in the area. When Airemis popped out of the undergrowth so suddenly the nearest troll squealed in surprise and bumped the other two behemoths and Bilbo was nearly dropped into the boiling pot sitting on the fire before they were able to right themselves.

"Another one!" One of the trolls reached for her, but Airemis dodged quickly to the left. She needed the trolls to drop her cousin, and she could think of only way to make that happen.

Airemis ran straight for the fire, or more accurately, for the pot of broth boiling atop it. She dashed between the trolls who were grappling for her, nearly stomping her into the dirt. With barely a thought for the many ways in which this could go wrong, Airemis gave the pot a great kick, the force of which snapped the wooden supports. The pot fell to the side and the boiling broth splashed across the grass, burning the trolls' feet before they had a chance to move out of the way.

The trolls yowled and leapt back, and just as she hoped they dropped Bilbo. He landed in the grass, luckily out of range of the boiling broth, and jumped to his feet. Airemis grabbed him by the elbow and together they dashed for the woods just as the entire company of dwarves leapt out of them, all brandishing swords.

Airemis and Bilbo ducked into the grass as the dwarves thundered passed them to face the trolls who had recovered and were angrier than ever. They watched as the dwarves took the trolls on, darting and weaving and performing such acrobatics that Airemis would never have thought possible of such stout men.

"We have to release the ponies," Bilbo said.

Airemis nodded. "Yes, do that."

"And what are you going to do?"

"Distract them," Airemis said, and before Bilbo could stop her, she rose to her feet and joined the fray.

Weaponless as she was, Airemis wove between the trolls' feet, using such things as tree limbs and bare bones to strike at their shins and divert their attention from her cousin. A few times she managed to distract the trolls long enough to spare a dwarf from being crushed or beheaded from a wildly swinging blade. The trolls, though dim-witted, could hold a grudge. They were not quick to forgive a wrongdoing, and when Airemis had not only boiled their feet but also ruined their dinner, she had delivered them the worst sort of injury.

The trolls swung their blades at her with a fury that was nearly palpable, and twice she only barely ducked in time to save her own head. Airemis cursed herself again for leaving her sword behind.

Suddenly the battle ceased, both sides coming to a complete standstill. It took Airemis a moment to realize why, but when she did she couldn't hold back a groan. "Bilbo!"

All three trolls had hold of the hobbit, stretching his limbs. Bilbo's face was tight with apprehension. "Throw down your arms, or we'll rip his off," the troll in the pseudo-apron yelled.

Airemis quickly dropped the gnarled tree limb she had been carrying and turned to the dwarves. They hesitated, all looking toward their leader for a cue as to what they should do next.

Airemis looked imploringly to Thorin. He met her gaze for a fraction of a second, before casting his eyes up to the captured hobbit. After a moment he threw down his battle axe and the rest of the company followed suit.

The trolls wasted no time in stripping the dwarves of their armor and tying half of them up in gunnysacks. The other half were tied to a spit and set over the fire. Airemis, for her part, fared little better.

As soon as they had surrendered one of the trolls had seized her up. They had all wanted to be the lucky one to bite her head off (literally), and after a short but intense argument, it was decided that the oldest—and largest—of the trolls would get the honor. However, when the troll took her up and made to take a bite, he had paused, studying her face.

"What's the matter?" asked the smallest troll. "Ain't you gonna eat it?"

The dwarves, both those on the spit and those tied up on the ground, yelled their protests. Bilbo shot Airemis a panicked glance.

"I don' know," said the troll that held her captive. "It's sorta cute, it is. Perhaps I'll keep it as a pet."

"A pet?" said the other trolls.

"You gotta feed pets," said the aproned troll. "An' there's little enough food for the three of us, as is."

"It's just a little thing," the troll argued, waving the fist that held Airemis for emphasis. "It don' need much food."

"Oh, let him keep it," said the small troll. "He'll grow tired of it soon, and then we can eat it!"

"Alright," said the chef. "But I ain't goin' hungry so as that little thing can eat!"

"Right," said the troll, and he shoved Airemis into the large woven bag at his hip. She fell against some gnawed upon bones, some rusty pots and other dirty, collected junk. She could hear the trolls arguing about how best to cook the dwarves, and then Bilbo's voice, breaking through and offering up advice. Airemis smiled as she realized that her cousin was playing for time. If he could distract them long enough then dawn would come and the trolls would turn to stone. Of course, it didn't sound as though the dwarves had cottoned on to Bilbo's plan, if the angry shouts of, "Traitor," were any indication.

Airemis knew she was no help trapped in a satchel, so she felt around for anything useful she could use to hoist her way out. The fabric of the bag was too flimsy for her to climb, but too stiff for her to yank down. So she pushed some old pots into the corner, near the seam, and started to stack them. She tried not to jostle too much, lest the troll realize what she was doing.

"I have parasites as big as my arm!"

Airemis paused as she heard that particular exclamation. So the dwarves had caught on to the scheme. She pushed the pots together and began to climb. Trolls were stupid, yes, but she didn't think it would take much longer before they, too, understood what Bilbo was doing.

It took longer than she had hoped to scale the pots, as she kept slipping and the troll kept moving about. But finally she made it to the top and plunged her face into the fresh air outside the bag. It took only a little more maneuvering for Airemis to squirm out of the satchel completely and jump to the ground. Unfortunately, however, her escape did not go unnoticed.

"Oi, the little pet has got loose!" the smallest troll screeched and made to grab for Airemis, but her captor turned and slapped his hand away, reaching for her himself. But he never got the chance.

"Dawn take you all!" Gandalf had returned at last. He stood on the ledge above them, a shadow against a pinkening sky.

"Whose that?" asked the chef.

"Can we eat him, too?"

"And turn you all to stone," Gandalf yelled, and split the rock he stood upon with his staff. Bright morning light spilled into the camp and the three trolls screeched as the sun hit them. Before they had time to move, the trolls' flesh hardened and became stone.

The dwarves all cheered and Airemis let out a sigh of relief.

* * *

As the dwarves hurried to redress, Airemis took the opportunity to speak with Gandalf.

"You think we should make for Rivendell?" she asked without preamble.

Gandalf chuckled. "Not even an hello? Have you not missed my company in the least?"

She smiled, a little ruefully. "No, I definitely missed your company. Especially when Thorin told me to keep my opinions to myself. It would have been nice to have someone on my side."

"You mentioned Rivendell to Thorin?" Gandalf looked surprised.

"I just said that I didn't think it wise to camp in that clearing. I made no other suggestions, though he was suspicious that I was in league with you."

Gandalf nodded. "He rejects the idea of seeking help from the elves. Though I quite believe that such assistance will be necessary to this endeavor."

Airemis crossed her arms over her chest and looked out at the rest of the company. "I would help you if I could, Gandalf. But there are few in this group who would pay any heed to my words, least of all our leader."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Gandalf said. "Charging a trio of trolls without a weapon is an act that would garner the respect of most any dwarf. I think you'll find a much friendlier reception from most of our companions."

Airemis was skeptical, but let the issue drop. She opened her mouth to ask Gandalf where he had been, but was beaten to it by Thorin, who, not noticing her presence, came up from behind the wizard.

"Gandalf," Thorin said. "Where have you been, if I may ask?"

Gandalf turned to face the dwarf king and as he did so Airemis was revealed. Thorin passed a suspicious look between them, but when his gaze finally settled on Airemis it wasn't _quite_ as hostile as before.

"Looking ahead," Gandalf answered.

Thorin cast his attention back to the wizard, completely ignoring Airemis now, which, after being held under the intensity of his gaze more than once that day, was almost a relief. "And what brought you back?"

"Looking behind."

Airemis didn't stick around to hear anymore. The last thing she wanted to do was make Thorin suspect her anymore than he already did. She started toward where Bilbo was buttoning up his vest when someone stopped her with a hand at her elbow. She turned, expecting to see Fili or Kili or even Balin, but it was none of those three.

"Dwalin?" Airemis said, shocked.

The dwarf pulled his hand back, and shifted his feet, looking uncomfortable but not unfriendly—at least, not any more unfriendly than usual. "I don't like elves," he said.

Airemis just stared. This was not news to her.

"But, for an elf, you're not so bad. I guess." He wouldn't meet her eyes and Airemis knew how difficult it must have been for him to approach her and say this.

"Thank you, Dwalin," she said. "And, for a dwarf, you don't smell nearly as bad as what I've heard."

Dwalin looked down at her, and for a brief, terrifying second Airemis thought she might have just ruined any chance for redemption. But then Dwalin burst into laughter, clapping her on the shoulder so emphatically her knees nearly gave out. Dwalin walked off, muttering about "cheeky brats" and chuckling under his breath.

Airemis smiled and decided she wouldn't be so quick to dismiss Gandalf's words from then on.

* * *

Thorin Oakenshield was not a dwarf who enjoyed surprises. Not since the dragon had surprised them all on that fateful day when Erebor had been lost and his people scattered across Middle Earth. Not since Thranduil had surprised them all with his betrayal of the alliance between dwarves and elves.

Thorin relied on the known, on truths that he had experienced himself and on the people whom he had worked with, learned with, and fought with. So it had been desperation that had forced him to count on a wizard to find the final member of their company. Which was bad enough, since Thorin was not one to relinquish control easily, and putting faith into someone else for such an important task was nerve-wracking, to say the least.

When he had first entered the Shire, seen all of the little homes built into the hills with their overflowing gardens and neat hedges, Thorin had thought he must have taken a wrong turn. No way could Gandalf have meant to send him here! There could be no burglars in such a gentle, peace-loving place. And then he had finally found the round green door with the wizard's mark and he had known there was no mistake. Inside had been not one, but two surprises for him in the forms of Mr. Baggins, the genteel burglar, and Mistress Took, the she-elf.

Thorin would have harbored reservations about Airemis even if her heritage were not so distasteful. He did not like the idea of fighting alongside a woman; it went against his upbringing. Dwarven women were few and far between, and while they were quite as stout and temperamental as the men (and often as hairy), they were cherished. They did not go to war, were not invited on quests or to partake in dangerous outings. Women were to be protected. Something that few outside their race knew was that dwarves valued their women over all else, even over gold and precious jewels.

When Thorin had laid eyes on the she-elf for the first time he had thought, "here is one too fair and too frail for such dark tidings". And then, as he watched her charge those trolls empty-handed, he had felt something painful in his chest. Something sharp and hot, like panic. He might detest the girl for the race she was born into, but he couldn't stop the instincts that were ingrained into him. The impulse to shelter and protect. He didn't like the idea of watching any woman, elf or not, being ripped apart by such foul creatures. It made acid burn in his throat just to think it, and so, when Airemis walked out of earshot, he addressed Gandalf on the matter.

"She should not be here," Thorin said.

Gandalf cleared his throat, but there was nothing faltering in his expression. "Airemis is a capable fighter, and will prove to be an invaluable asset to this company, even if you do take issue with her parentage. Which, I might mention, is completely out of her control."

Thorin waved this off impatiently. "I am not making reference to that. But if she continues to behave so recklessly, she will not live to see many more moons. I will not have her blood on my hands, Gandalf."

At these words the wizard's expression became unreadable. "I think you are underestimating her. She has weighed the risks and decided for herself to join in this endeavor. She has signed the contract, after all. The same as all of us."

"She could have easily been killed this night," Thorin said.

"Be careful," Gandalf said. "You almost sound concerned for the girl."

Thorin grit his teeth. "I am concerned that her foolishness, and that of Mr. Baggins, will be the ruin of us all."

"Bilbo had the wits to stall for time. More than I can say for any of the rest of you," Gandalf said.

Thorin had to give this to the hobbit; it had been quick thinking that had distracted the trolls long enough for dawn to come.

"Strange though. Trolls haven't been down this far from the mountains since the dark days," Gandalf said. "They must have a cave nearby that they used during the day."

Thorin turned to his company and ordered them to look around for any such cave. Often trolls hoarded treasures that they stole from their victims. It was possible they could find something useful. He wasn't hoping for much, but it would be nice if they could acquire a bit more food or materials they could use to barter with, should the need arise.

As the other dwarves spread out to search for the troll cave, Thorin's eyes once again found Bilbo and Airemis. They laughed together as they searched, sharing in some private joke. Bilbo's hearty laugh carried across the way, and even from where he stood, Thorin could see the sparkle of amusement in the she-elf's eyes.

Yes, Thorin hated surprises.

* * *

After the cave had been located the dwarves ventured in to see what might be salvaged. Airemis, though curious herself, could not abide the stench and waited outside with the ponies.

"What do you think they'll find in there?" Bilbo asked. He was patting Myrtle on the neck lovingly and casting looks toward the cave.

"I have no idea. Trolls will take anything, whether it's valuable or not. Maybe they find treasure, and maybe they find a lot of old gardening tools." Airemis shrugged.

"I am in need of a good hoe," Bilbo said. "Perhaps I should go and check?"

Airemis laughed. She was digging through her pack for her sword. After what had just transpired with the trolls, she didn't want to be caught without it again. She pulled the short sword out from amongst the few belongings she had brought. It was encased in a rough leather scabbard that hooked around her hips, but the clasp was old and difficult to open.

"Need some help with that?"

Airemis looked up to see Fili and Kili had returned from the cave. Behind them the other dwarves were pouring forth as well, drinking in the cool fresh air.

"Sure," she said. "I always have trouble with this." She handed the scabbard over to Kili, who turned it round in his hands, examining the leatherwork and the metal fixings.

"This is very old," Kili said.

"No wonder you have issues with this," Fili said. "This thing is nearly rusted closed."

"Why not get a new scabbard?" Kili asked.

"That was your mother's, was it not?" Bilbo asked. He was standing at Airemis's side, looking at the blade in recognition.

"Yes," Airemis said. She didn't have many memories of her mother, as Bilbo well knew, and this was one of the only possessions that had been passed down to her.

"Well, then we will make it work," Fili said. He took the scabbard from Kili and moved behind Airemis. Though not as tall nor as broad as Thorin, Fili had a way of _looming _over her that made Airemis wish she had inherited her mother's height. It was a tiresome thing, to be so small.

Fili wrapped the scabbard around her hips, his hands brushing against her sides in a way that she knew wasn't accidental. Apparently Kili noticed too, because after Fili had attached the scabbard and taken a step back he found himself on the receiving end of his brother's death glare.

Airemis thanked him and moved away to put a little distance between herself and the angry brothers. She could feel a pair of eyes on her, but when she looked around no one was paying her any attention. She shook it off and went about repacking her things, some of which she had needed to remove to find her sword, and shouldered her pack.

There was suddenly a great thundering noise in the underbrush, coming closer and closer to where they were now congregated. Thorin yelled for everyone to get their weapons ready, and the company closed ranks, all moving together in a way that left no blind spots, no openings in which anything could take them by surprise. But it was a surprise, what came flying through the woods, crashing to a stop in the middle of their group.

Instead of a marauder or lone orc, they were met by a rather disheveled looking old man riding a sled drawn by a dozen brown rabbits.

"Radagast!" Gandalf said. "What are you doing here?"

* * *

And so we delved a bit into Thorin's thoughts this chapter...I will be including a bit more from his perspective throughout the story because, for lack of a better reason, he is my favorite of Tolkien's characters...


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks again for all the support! Just a quick note: updates will be less frequent from now on. I'll be heading back to work tomorrow and then my classes start up again next week. I will still be keeping up with this story, but I won't be able to update as frequently. Just wanted to let you know that it might be cut down to 1-2 chapters per week from now on.

* * *

Chapter Four: Bearded Ladies and Moon Letters

* * *

"Who is that fellow?" Bilbo asked. He and Airemis were standing beneath an outcropping of rock, a few feet from the party of dwarves. Gandalf and the oddly attired stranger were off a ways, discussing something urgently.

"His name is Radagast the Brown," she said. "He is a wizard like Gandalf."

"Have you met him before?" Bilbo asked.

"No, not really. I saw him once, when I visited Greenwood, but he was too busy cultivating mushrooms to take much notice of me," Airemis said. "He lives there and cares for the forest and its inhabitants."

Bilbo was thoughtful for a moment. "Do you think he knows that he has bird feces on his face?"

"I'm sure he knows, and I'm equally sure he doesn't care," she said, rubbing her jaw.

"Has to itch though, doesn't it? Being all matted up in his beard like that?"

Airemis shrugged. "I have no experience with facial hair, but I'd imagine it all itches."

"Oh, not too badly, miss," Dori said.

Airemis and Bilbo turned around to see that nearly all of the dwarves were standing near them now, and had been listening in as they spoke. Even Thorin, with his arms crossed tight over his chest, was looking their way.

"What?"

"The beards. They don't itch too much, once they've grown long enough," Nori said.

"You ain't never had a beard before?" Ori asked. "Not even a few whiskers?"

Airemis was startled by this question. "No, of course not. Why do you ask?"

Ori shrugged, "All the women I've ever known have had beards. You're the first lady I've met that didn't."

"Dwarf women have beards?" Bilbo asked, astonished.

"Aye, they're as hairy as the men," Bofur said. "I've seen many a dwarven lass with braids on their head, braids on their chins, and even braids on their backs!"

"Well," Bilbo said, trying to be diplomatic, "they sound lovely."

"Hardly," Bofur laughed.

"Can you braid the hair on your back, miss?" Ori asked.

Airemis coughed to hide her laugh. "No, unfortunately I am not lucky enough to have any back hair."

"None at all?" Ori asked.

"None at all. Elves do not have any body hair, except for what grows on our heads," Airemis said.

"Really?" asked Fili and Kili in unison. They looked a little too intrigued by this information, and Airemis noticed that all of the dwarves were now sending her odd glances. Too late she realized what _very_ intimate information she had just revealed to the group at large. Bilbo seemed to catch on at the same time, and both Airemis and the hobbit turned a bright red and the dwarves all burst into laughter. Even Thorin had to turn away to hide his amusement.

Luckily Airemis was spared any further embarrassment when Gandalf and Radagast rejoined their group. The wizards both looked grave and the overall mood in the company turned somber. Thorin began giving instructions to the dwarves to ready themselves to move on.

As everyone made to set out and Radagast once more took his place on the rabbit-drawn sled, there was a sudden and terrible sound that rent through the air: a deep, unearthly howl.

Bilbo spun on the spot, his eyes going wide. "Was that a wolf?"

"No, not a wolf," said Bofur, and at that moment a giant beast crested the craggy hill overhead, snarling and snapping its fang encrusted maw. The creature was twice as large as a wolf, with a long, thick snout and slanted, intelligent eyes. It leapt from the high ridge straight for Dwalin and Gloin, but an arrow from Kili's bow knocked it from its path and it crashed to the ground only a few feet from where Airemis and Bilbo still stood. The beast made to stand, its gaze now fixed on smaller and easier targets, but Dwalin and Gloin were quick to swing their axes and deliver the fatal blows.

Airemis pulled her sword from its scabbard, the elf-blade glowing pale blue in the shadows. She cast an alarmed look toward Thorin, ready to warn him that orcs were nearby, but he was preoccupied by another beast that snuck up behind him from the opposite way. He made quick work of it, running his newly acquired sword through the animal's skull.

"Warg scouts," Balin said.

"And where there are wargs, there will be an orc pack nearby," Thorin said in disgust.

"Who have you told of your quest, besides your kin?" Gandalf advanced on Thorin, who didn't back down but did shoot the wizard a wary glance.

"No one," he said.

"Who else have you told?" Gandalf demanded.

"No one, I swear!"

"What's the matter?" Bilbo asked.

Gandalf unsheathed his sword, his face a mask of grim determination. "We are being hunted."

"Get the ponies," Thorin shouted. "We must make haste!"

Nori and Ori dashed from the woods, both wearing identical expressions of panic. "We can't! The ponies are gone. They bolted!"

Thorin cursed loudly, and a few of the other dwarves joined in. Gandalf called out, "We'll have to run for it." But it appeared they were trapped, and none of them could outrun a warg.

"I will lead them away," Radagast said.

Gandalf gave him a disbelieving shake of the head. "Those are Gundabag wargs. They will outrun you."

"And these are Rhosgobel rabbits. I'd like to see them try," Radagast said.

* * *

Airemis, despite her short stature, was a quick runner. She darted across the plains at the rear of the company, dodging behind rocks and crags, using her elven sight to keep track of Radagast and his trail of orcs and wargs. She had needed to replace her sword in its scabbard to run, lest she risk falling on the blade and injuring herself, but the dwarves kept their weapons at the ready. Even Bilbo had a new sword out, one given to him by Gandalf, though Airemis wished he would just put it away. She didn't think he would be able to use it, and even if he did, without any formal training, he'd probably be more of a danger to himself than the orcs.

They ran as quickly and as quietly as they could for a company of thirteen dwarves, one wizard, and two halflings, trying to remain unseen and yet put as much distance between themselves and the orc threat as possible. They wove between outcroppings of rock and into the niches beneath hills, with Gandalf and Thorin directing the group.

Airemis latched her hand onto Bilbo's coat, determined not to lose sight of him, no matter what happened. She felt a responsibility to keep him safe, and she would die before she let anything happen to him. He was trembling, sweat beading on his face and neck, but he didn't scream or cry or make laments.

"Come," Gandalf said. He led them from behind their cover, across the yellow plains. In the distance they could hear the excited screeches of orcs on the hunt, the terrible howls and yips of the wargs. Airemis had to slow her pace to allow Bilbo to keep up with her, but she kept a firm hold on him.

They paused behind another hummock, and Gandalf leaned out, assessing the situation and planning. After a moment he motioned the group to keep running.

"Where are you leading us?" Thorin demanded.

Gandalf didn't answer, he just followed behind the group. Thorin's gaze met Airemis's as she and Bilbo ran passed, and she was sure he could read the recognition in her face.

She knew this place; she had passed through this way before on her way to Rivendell, though she rarely came by it this way. She knew what Gandalf was planning, and while she also thought it was a wise idea to seek shelter and aid from the elves, she did not condone the wizard's deceitful ways. This was, after all, Thorin's company and his quest, and, although Airemis might not see eye to eye (literally and figuratively) with the dwarf, she still respected his authority.

They ducked beneath a large outcropping just an eastern wind blew through the plains. The wind was moving mostly opposite of the direction of the orc pack, but there must have been one orc on the outskirts of the hunting party that had caught the scent of dwarf.

Airemis could hear it approaching, the scrape of sharp claws on rock and the horrible, wet sound of an orc breathing nearby. She clutched Bilbo tighter with one hand and with the other she reached for her sword. Thorin had not missed the approach either. As the orc came upon the top of the outcropping, Thorin gestured for Kili to load his bow and, after allowing the orc to come within shooting range, gave the order for Kili to fire.

Kili leapt out from the cover of the rocky hillside and shot the giant warg, bringing the beast and its rider to the ground. This would have been well, except that the orc screeched loudly and the warg howled and barked and made so much noise before the dwarves could kill them. Their location was now revealed and the hunting party changed direction, heading straight for them.

"Run quickly!" Gandalf lead them on. There was no more ducking and hiding. They ran as if a fire had been lit at their heels. Twice Airemis had to slow down considerably as Bilbo tripped or stumbled, and always she could see the wargs and their foul riders coming closer and closer.

The company burst into an open patch of plain where here and there a lone scraggly tree grew, but otherwise no cover was found. The hunting party had closed in on them, coming from all directions and trapping them.

Airemis scanned the area, looking for any place she could have Bilbo hide. It would be impossible enough to fight off a pack of orcs and wargs, but especially so if she had to worry about him the whole time. Bilbo, for his part, however, was brandishing his own sword, and wasn't acting as though he would abide his cousin trying to stow him away somewhere.

"Where is Gandalf?" Nori cried.

"He's abandoned us," Gloin said.

Kili fired off arrows at the approaching orcs, and everyone readied themselves for a bloody, but ultimately futile, battle, when suddenly Gandalf's head appeared from behind a rock and he yelled, "Over here, you fools!"

Everyone turned and Thorin roared for them to make for the rocks in which Gandalf hid. Airemis pushed Bilbo ahead of herself, but kept casting her eyes back to where Kili was still shooting off arrows. He was still so far out; there was no way he could make it back in time.

Bilbo made it to the rocks, which actually hid a small cave, and he slid inside, but Airemis hesitated. Thorin was there, ushering everyone inside. He too noticed Kili was still very much in harms way, and he called out for him.

Kili turned and bolted for the cave, but the wargs were closing in on him quickly.

"Get in there, elf," Thorin yelled, motioning Airemis into the cave. He started to run out toward Kili, but an orc on wargback came in from the side and waylaid him. Thorin was forced to deal with this threat, and Airemis knew she couldn't stand by and do nothing.

She ran as fast as her legs would carry her, straight at Kili. He waved her back frantically, his face etched with worry, but she could see the warg closing in on him. Airemis knew she wouldn't make it to him in time, so she did something that was both terribly dangerous and incredibly stupid: she threw her sword.

It arced through the air, turning over and over, and for a horrible second she was sure it was going to impale Kili. But it stayed true to course and lodged into the warg's chest, just to the right of its shoulder joint. The beast went down and in the process it rolled over and squashed its rider into the grass.

Airemis lunged for her sword, barely avoiding having her own arm ripped off by the creature's snarling mouth, but she managed to grab the blade and pull it free. She ran for the cave as quickly as possible, and was the last to make it, though Thorin still remained outside.

He gave her a look that fell somewhere between incredulous and furious, and grabbed tightly onto her arm as soon as she was in reach. He pulled her into the cave and they tumbled inside, landing awkwardly at the bottom, with their legs tangled uncomfortably together.

Thorin was quick to pull away and right himself, and Kili reached down to help Airemis to her feet, whispering a breathy, "thanks," into her ear as he did so. She waved him off, still feeling the rush of battle in her veins, which was fortunate because it kept her from having to think about the intimate touches and looks that she seemed to be receiving more frequently from both Fili and Kili, and what she was going to do about it.

The company pulled together, all facing the opening to the cave with weapons drawn. But they needn't have bothered, as it turned out. There was a trumpeting of war horns outside and the unmistakable sound of horse hooves and clanging metal. Airemis could guess who had come to their rescue, but it was not until the corpse of a particularly foul orc rolled into the cave, riddled with fine arrows, that she knew.

"Elves," Thorin spat, as he pulled free one of the arrows and examined the tip. He tossed the arrow down as though it were poisoned and fixed Gandalf with a heavy stare.

"I cannot see where the pathway leads," came Dwalin's voice from the other side of the cave. "Do we follow it or not?"

"Follow it, of course," Bofur yelled.

"That would be wise," Gandalf said. They all started forward, following the narrow passage through rocks, over a shallow stream, and finally out onto a cliff that wound gently down into a valley. At the base of the valley was a sight that was very familiar to Airemis, and yet despite how many times she had seen it, was still breathtaking in its beauty.

"Behold the valley of Imladris," Gandalf said. "But in the common tongue it is known by a different name."

"Rivendell," Bilbo whispered. Below was the large elven compound, built into the valley from stone and wood, and yet glowing ethereal in the afternoon sun as though it were built from starlight.

"This was your plan all along," Thorin said to Gandalf. The other dwarves had moved on out of earshot, but Bilbo and Airemis were still close by. Thorin took no notice of either of them. "To take refuge with our enemy."

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf said. "The only ill-will you'll find in this valley is that which you bring yourself."

"You think the elves will give their blessing to our quest?" Thorin asked. "They will try to stop us."

"Of course they will," Gandalf said. "But we have questions that need answering." The wizard moved passed them and started down the path with Bilbo on his heels. The hobbit had always had a deep fascination with elves, and now was his opportunity to see them in the flesh, 'real elves' as he called them.

Airemis made to follow her cousin, but a firm grip on her elbow made her stop. She looked up at Thorin in surprise and not a small amount of dread. His expression was stormy, but it didn't seem to be directed completely toward her.

"You knew he was leading us here," Thorin said. "You've been here before."

"Yes," Airemis said. "I suspected this was Gandalf's intention."

"And you said nothing." Despite his words, Thorin's tone wasn't accusing. She didn't give him an answer and he didn't seem to be expecting one. He looked at her for a long time, still holding her by the arm, his expression calculating. "I have my reasons for wanting to avoid the elves." He said 'elves' the way one might utter a curse word.

"I know," she sighed. "And I understand."

"Do you?" He looked doubtful and his tone was condescending.

"Yes, I do. In your position, I'd probably feel the same way. And I know that my presence here is probably an affront to you, but I really am trying to help."

"If you want to help," Thorin said, releasing her arm, "then you'll remain with your kin when my company departs from here."

Airemis flinched at his harsh tone. He turned to leave her there but she couldn't stop herself from asking, "What have I done to offend you so?"

He paused but didn't turn around. "You do not offend me. I just detest the idea of being responsible for you."

"I am responsible for myself."

"And I am responsible for everyone in my company," Thorin said. And with that he left her there.

* * *

Airemis took her time joining the others. She had already known that Thorin didn't want her amongst his company, but there was something truly awful about hearing the words come out of his mouth. When she finally caught up with the others, they were already being led to Lord Elrond's table. She would have chosen a seat at the end, to be by herself, but Gandalf called her to join him, Elrond and Thorin at the head. There was a strange gleam in the wizard's eyes, as if he knew something that she didn't.

She sat next to Gandalf, acknowledged Lord Elrond's words of welcome, but otherwise kept to herself. She picked at the food on her plate and half listened as Elrond told Gandalf and Thorin the names of their newly acquired swords. Surprisingly, Thorin was civil during dinner. At least, he didn't outright insult their hosts or make any anti-elf comments.

After dinner, Elrond rose from the table, followed by Gandalf, Thorin and Balin. They started to leave, but the wizard paused and turned back to the table. "Bilbo, Airemis, if you two wouldn't mind joining us." He gestured for them to follow.

Airemis and Bilbo exchanged perplexed looks, and Elrond and Thorin wore similar expressions. They rose, however, and walked with the others out of the dining hall and into a more private room.

Once they were alone, Gandalf faced off with Thorin. "Show Lord Elrond the map."

Elrond looked interestedly between Thorin and Gandalf at the mention of a map. Airemis and Bilbo stood off to the side, just playing bystanders. Though Airemis couldn't bring herself to look at Thorin, she had a feeling what his facial expression might be.

"Our business is no concern of the elves," Thorin said.

"Save us from the stubbornness of dwarves," Gandalf muttered.

"This map came down to me to protect," Thorin went on.

"You stand in the presence of one of the few in Middle Earth that is able to read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond," Gandalf said.

Thorin finally relented, handing the map over to the elf lord, despite Balin's protests. Elrond unrolled the map and said in surprise, "Erebor? What interest do you have in this?"

"Purely academic," Gandalf said. "You know how sometimes there can be hidden text on such documents. Can you tell if such text exists?"

Elrond didn't look convinced by this explanation, but he took the map and looked it over anyway.

Airemis shifted uncomfortably. She could feel eyes on her, but, knowing who they belonged to, she refused to look up and meet them. Maybe that made her a coward, but she couldn't face her tormentor again, not when her wounds were still so fresh.

"Moon letters," Elrond said.

"Of course," Gandalf said.

"They can only be revealed by the light of the moon, and it must be the same moon as the night and the season on which they were written. These were written on a midsummers eve by the light of a crescent moon. And as luck would have it, we have the same moon tonight," Elrond said.

"What do they say?" Thorin asked.

"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks," Elrond read, "and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole."

"Excellent," Balin said, smiling.

"Not excellent," Thorin said. "Durin's Day is the first day of the last moon of autumn. It will be upon us within three months time."

"That will be plenty of time," Balin reassured. "We just have to be in the right place on Durin's Day and wait until the door is revealed."

"So this is your true purpose," Elrond said. He was staring at Gandalf in a way that quite plainly told the wizard that they would have many words to exchange, but in private.

Airemis didn't wait around to hear anything more. She retreated back to the main hall where the dwarves were all assembled. They had rolled out their beds and were roasting meat, apparently unsatisfied with the meal provided by the elves.

She was still feeling morose, but when Fili and Kili invited her over to share in their roasted sausages and potatoes, she couldn't say no. The brothers had a way of cheering her up, and right then, she just needed to be in the company of someone who didn't revolt at her mere presence.

Airemis had just sat down between the two dwarves when she felt sharp eyes upon her again. But this time, she couldn't help but look up. As if by some compulsion, her head lifted and her gaze locked with that of Thorin Oakenshield. Though it only lasted for a matter of seconds, the intensity of his stare sat like a metal weight in her stomach for the rest of the evening.

* * *

Next chapter will delve back into Thorin's thoughts a bit. Hope everyone enjoyed this installment and, of course, a Happy New Years to you all!


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks again for all the support! I'm glad so many of you are enjoying this story. I am hoping to be able to post another chapter by this weekend since my classes start next week and updates will be slow coming from now on.

* * *

Chapter 5: Goblin Town

* * *

Thorin spent most of the evening studying the map, tracing over the lines of ink and the creases borne from age and storage with the tips of his fingers. He stared at the mountain with its six great roots and he thought of Erebor and his life before Smaug. Memories of the great dwarven kingdom, of his grandfather and his father, flashed through his mind. His childhood had been merry enough, he supposed, filled mostly with metalworking and combat training and grand stories of the feats of his ancestors. And ale, lots of ale.

He had been fortunate to get to spend so many years in the presence of such great dwarves as his grandfather, Thror, his father, Thrain, his sister, Dis, and his trusted friends. He lamented that the younger dwarves, Fili, Kili and Ori, had never known the beauty and the majesty of Erebor, of the dark stone halls and the veins of gold that ran through the walls, flashing in the torchlight like living things. They had only known a life of displacement, of making the best out of nothing, but soon, Thorin thought, they would reclaim their true home and his nephews, his sister and his friends would no longer suffer the life of a nomad.

Too long had Thorin been away from his home, his inheritance. He had toiled for years in the villages of man, working as a blacksmith for hire, fixing horseshoes and hinges and crafting small trinkets. All the while his heart had burned for Erebor and his hands had itched for the great forges under the mountain, to make things of beauty instead of rudimentary tools and nonsensical, everyday things.

The sound of laughter broke Thorin from his thoughts. He looked up to find the source of the sound and his eyes fell on his nephews and the she-elf. They were sitting huddled together and Kili seemed to be in the middle of an amusing story, if Airemis and Fili's smiles were any indication.

Fili and Kili were obviously fond of the girl. They tagged along with her and the hobbit, followed her with their eyes, made a point to include her into conversations and jokes. Thorin watched his nephews closely as they interacted with the elf, taking note of the difference in their facial expressions, the way they moved their bodies, the soft intentional touches they gave her. Thorin had enough experience with women to know what budding infatuation looked like, and how a young dwarf might behave if so afflicted.

Both Fili and Kili were becoming enamored with the elf, that much was obvious. What wasn't so obvious to Thorin, however, was how he felt about it. Normally, he would have felt joy that his nephews were taking interest in a woman (even if they were interested in the same woman). Neither Fili nor Kili had paid much attention to women their age, besides the occasional tavern wench, and he could understand why. Dwarven women were rare and often ugly, an acquired taste, so to speak, and young dwarves were not often attracted to them. Thorin should be happy for the brothers, even though, ultimately, one or both of them would end up with a broken heart. But he didn't—couldn't—feel joy.

A dark feeling spread through Thorin's chest as he watched Kili tuck a flower into the elf's hair. He didn't like the sight of his nephews showing the girl affection, but he didn't understand why he felt that way. It was true that he had no love for elves, but he would never let his own prejudices interfere with the happiness of his nephews. No, this wasn't an emotion borne from hatred, this was something else, but something just as caustic.

Thorin watched the elf rise to her feet and stretch. She smiled and bid the brothers goodnight before walking out of the dwarf camp (they had all refused the bedrooms offered by Elrond) and disappearing into one of the halls. He stared after her for a while and wondered…would she heed his words and remain in Rivendell? He desperately wished she would. He didn't want to watch her rush recklessly into battle, to endanger her life as she had with the trolls and then again with the orc pack. He had told Gandalf that he wouldn't be responsible for her fate, and yet, he did feel responsible for her, and the hobbit, and all of the others that had joined him in his quest. He worried for all of them, but for some reason, it was the thought of something terrible happening to the girl that haunted him most of all.

Thorin looked down at his map, letting his eyes rove over the mountain again. Their journey would take them through many more dangers before they reached their destination, and once they did make it to Erebor there was still the threat of the dragon. Dangerous missions such as this were no place for a woman, especially such a small and delicate woman.

No, Thorin thought, he would not allow the she-elf to accompany them any longer.

* * *

Airemis needed space. She enjoyed the company of the dwarves, and she was grateful to Fili and Kili for not only cheering her up, but for making her feel welcomed. But she needed time for herself.

She wasn't sure why she was taking Thorin's words to heart, why she was allowing him to hurt her so much. She had always had a tough spirit, an enduring nature. She had been scorned and ostracized since she was a child. That was the result of being born to a hobbit father and an elven mother. She had grown up amongst hobbits, who were a peaceful and loving people most of the time, but who disapproved of anything that deviated from the norm. And Airemis certainly wasn't normal.

Wild and adventurous, she had often been turned out of hobbit holes for being a bad influence. Parents hadn't wanted their children to play with her, lest they become as strange as she, or absorb some of her abnormality. The other children, picking up on their parent's distrust, had excluded her from their games, had whispered loudly about her anytime she passed by. Only Bilbo had remained a faithful friend.

Yes, Airemis knew what it was like to be discriminated against. And she always thought that she had become stronger for it, had grown into a person who was independent and self-sufficient, someone who didn't need the approval of others to feel confidence in herself. So why was it that Thorin, with just a few hateful words, could make her feel so wretched? How could he tear through her self-esteem and make her feel so small? What gave him that power?

Airemis walked out onto the west terrace, on the opposite side of Elrond's house from where the dwarves were making camp, and breathed deep the night air. She had always loved the smell of Rivendell; sweet like flowers, fresh as snow, and refreshing like cool water. It wasn't a smell that existed anywhere else. She threw her head back and basked in this moment of safety and peace. Nothing foul could exist in this valley, and already her heart was lifting.

She shook herself, determined to stop feeling sorry for herself. So Thorin didn't like her. She could deal with that. So he didn't want her to continue on this journey. Well, she was going to anyway. She wouldn't let one man—dwarf—keep her from doing what she knew was right.

Airemis leaned back on one of the benches that lined the terrace, letting her body relax. Her eyes began to droop, her lack of sleep finally catching up with her. She closed her eyes and let the sounds of the valley, the elf songs and the river running, sooth her into sleep. When morning came she would rejoin the others and they would leave Rivendell. She wouldn't give up on this quest.

What Airemis didn't anticipate, however, was that the dwarves might leave without her.

In the early light of the morning she walked back to the dwarf camp only to find that there was no dwarf camp. They had packed up and left in the dead of night, leaving no trace behind, no sign that they had been there at all. Not even Bilbo had remained.

Airemis couldn't believe it. They had actually left her behind. Too dumbstruck to be angry or hurt, all she could do was stand there and stare at the exact spot where, only hours before, Kili and Fili had regaled her with stories of their misadventures with a cross-dressing bandit outside of Bree.

"You shouldn't leave your mouth hanging open like that," a voice said, near her ear. "You'll attract insects."

Airemis spun around to face the voice. "Gandalf? You didn't leave with them?"

"No, I had business to finish up here," the wizard said. He gave her a curious look. "But why are you still here?"

"They left me," she said, and finally the outrage of the situation began to creep into her voice. How dare they!

Gandalf's bushy brows rose into his hat. "And you consented to be left behind, did you?"

"No, of course not!"

"Then I am afraid I do not understand," Gandalf said, patiently and with mock confusion. "What are you still doing here?" he repeated.

Airemis blinked. "I…I don't know exactly which way they've gone. Or when they left, or if I can even catch up."

"Those dwarves—and your dear cousin—have a knack for getting themselves into trouble. I do not believe catching up to them will be the problem," he said.

"Then what is the problem?" Airemis asked, confused.

Gandalf's eyes flashed in the morning light. "You tell me."

She swallowed the sudden hard lump that had formed in her throat and tried to keep from looking upset, though it was a futile effort. The wizard saw everything. "I know why they left me here. Thorin told me yesterday that he does not wish for me to continue on this quest. He thinks that I am a burden, something else that he will have to watch after. I'm sure he was not alone in that thought."

"Hmm," Gandalf contemplated this. "I don't doubt that he would have said such things to you. He can be terribly blunt and irresponsible with his words. However, there is something I think you should know about Thorin Oakenshield."

"He's actually an ogre in miniature?"

Gandalf laughed and shook his head. His expression turned somber quickly, though, as he started speaking. "He has lost everything that has ever mattered to him. Everything that he loved, everything that was precious and beautiful to him was ripped away. First Erebor and his birthright, his inheritance, to the dragon. Then his grandfather to the pale orc. Then his father to madness. Then his dignity as he toiled away in human villages, working for ungrateful men for a meager living. The only things he has been able to hold onto are his skills, his beliefs and his hope. He has lived through more hardship and heartbreak than most, and he has lost more than most could even imagine."

"Why are you telling me this?" Airemis asked.

"Because I think it is important that you understand his motivations. It may seem as though he is being unreasonably cruel to you, but I believe this is Thorin's way of trying to keep you from harm."

"I can look after myself. I'm not a child," she said.

"No, you are certainly not a child," Gandalf consented. "But you are a woman, and a remarkably small one at that." Airemis scowled at this, but the wizard went on as though he didn't notice. "And Thorin is a dwarf who has held so tightly to his past over the years, stayed true to the teachings of his father and his grandfather, clung to his dwarven morals and customs, that it is probably impossible for him to look upon you and see a warrior. At least, it is impossible at this time."

"You really think he could ever see me as more than a nuisance? More than an elf?" she asked, disbelieving.

"I do think so, for you _are_ more than an elf. You are also a hobbit."

Airemis couldn't help a small smile at this. It had been a while since anyone had acknowledged her hobbit heritage. "Yes, and we all know Thorin—and the others, for that matter—hold hobbits in such high regard," she said, but there wasn't much acid in it.

"You have earned the respect of most of the dwarves. Thorin will be a more difficult challenge. He does not adapt well to change, especially in his philosophies, but I would ask you not to give up on him."

"Why do you care?" Airemis asked suddenly. She stared at the wizard with no small measure of suspicion. Gandalf never did nor said anything unless it served an agenda, his or otherwise.

Gandalf just smiled. "I think we should be going now, if we are to catch up to the others in time."

* * *

The paths through the mountains were treacherous. Some snaked around bends in the rock and then dropped off suddenly into air, a deathtrap to any traveler not paying heed to where he placed his feet. Some of the paths led to dead ends, or just circled around in a continuous loop, and all of the terrain looked so similar that a person might tread the same small area for days before realizing they were not progressing.

And there were other dangers. When the light failed and nighttime took its place, there was ever the sound of keening wails on the wind, high-pitched shrieks and squeals. Goblins and trolls and all other manner of foul creature lived in the mountains and came out at night to hunt for easy victims.

Luckily Thorin knew the path to take. He and Gandalf had charted out this particular part of the journey months in advance, when their company was still short one burglar and one she-elf. He had found the path easily enough, even without the wizard, and had led his band of dwarves (and one hobbit) through the crags and crevices of stone for over a week without incident. They trekked through the day and made a quiet camp at night. Much of the vigor and enthusiasm of the company had been subdued when they entered the mountains, where each sound was magnified and would echo back and forth between the rocks.

Actually, Thorin thought, if he was being honest with himself, he would say that the company had deflated and any merrymaking had been lost the moment they left Rivendell behind. When they abandoned the girl.

Thorin rejected that thought immediately. He had not abandoned the elf. He had left her to her kin where she would be undoubtedly safer and where he wouldn't have to be concerned for her welfare. It was the best decision, for all of them, to leave the girl behind.

And yet, this thought didn't bring much comfort. It was undeniable that spirits in the party had gone on a downward spiral. Even Dwalin was more morose and cantankerous than normal, and it wasn't just because of the cold, hard journey through the mountains.

The first few days after they had left Elrond's home many of the dwarves—with Fili and Kili being the most mentionable—and the hobbit had questioned why they left Airemis behind (and Gandalf as well, though most were content to let him carry on with his 'wizard's business'). Thorin had grown tired of hearing their complaints and laments, and had finally told them to let it rest lest they want to be thrown from the nearest cliff. But the mood had affected them all.

It certainly did not help the already tense atmosphere when, on the thirteenth night of their trip through the mountains, it began to rain. Not a soft, tickling drizzle, but a thundering storm in which the rain and the wind seemed to blow in from every direction and soaked through their cloaks and armor, pooled in their boots and hoods.

Thorin pushed his wet hair out of his eyes and squinted into the storm. He had thought he had seen something moving out over the ridge. All around was the thrashing of thunder, so violent the mountain itself shook beneath their feet. A flash of lightening illuminated the sky, and Thorin saw it again, the movement. He heard several gasps behind him.

"Stone giants," Thorin said, turning to the company.

"They exist," Bilbo squeaked.

"The legends are true," Balin said, in awe.

Yes, the stone giants certainly did exist. And they appeared to be at war with one another. Though slow, the giants were advancing on one another, their great boulder fists raised. Each time they made a direct hit there was a great crashing sound, and stones as large as small ponies would go flying through the air. And with each strike the giants were getting closer and closer to where the dwarves were standing, huddled together on a narrow cliff.

They needed to find shelter, and quickly. Thorin led them on slowly, not wanting to tumble off the slippery edge of rock. Suddenly the path beneath their feet began to tremble and then crack and then break away from the mountain. Thorin called out, "Hurry!" and ran heedless down the path until the rock stopped shifting. He turned to look behind him and saw that only half of his company had made it behind him. The other half were still on the other part of the cliff face, which, it turned out, was not a cliff face at all, but actually the knee of yet another stone giant.

The giant rose, taking half the dwarves and the hobbit with it. Thorin watched helplessly as the giant faced off against another of its kind, taking a terrible hit that had it swaying back toward the mountain.

Those that had made it to safety reached out across the gap, yelling for the others to jump when the giant's knee started to come within range. But the giant righted itself before they could leap and it went back to the battle. It wasn't long, however, before the giant took a terrible hit that sent its head soaring off into the night, and it fell, its knees colliding with the side of the mountain not far from where the other dwarves stood.

"No!" Thorin raced for the spot, his heart filling with dread, sure that he would find his comrades dead. But they were all miraculously alive, though a little worse for wear.

"Where's Bilbo?" Bofur called.

Everyone turned on the spot, searching for the Halfling, when suddenly Bofur let out another yell and everyone huddled around the cliff. There was the hobbit, dangling off the edge, panic written across his features.

Bofur latched onto Bilbo's wrists and pulled, but the hobbit was slipping and would have fallen to his death if not for Thorin's quick actions. Thorin jumped down and swung off the cliff, using his impressive dwarvish strength to hold to the edge with one hand and lift the hobbit from danger with the other. Bofur and a few other dwarves grabbed hold of Bilbo, pulling him the rest of the way up. Thorin started to climb back up himself, but the rock was slick and he nearly fell. Luckily Dwalin was able to catch him and help him back up.

Still, when Thorin gained his footing, he was in a foul temper. Days of trekking through the cold mountains, his fear of losing his companions, and a fresh brush with death had his blood boiling, his heart hammering, and his nerves next to snapping.

"I thought we almost lost our burglar," Dwalin panted.

Thorin turned to see the hobbit staring at him with wide eyes, and for some reason, this only made him angrier. "He has been lost since he left his home. He should not have come. He has no place amongst us." He turned away, ignoring the hurt look Bilbo had shot him.

"A cave," Fili yelled suddenly. Gesturing to an opening in the rock. Thorin went to him immediately, the others following. They entered the cave cautiously.

"Check it," Thorin said. "We need to be sure this place is not otherwise occupied."

"All clear here," Dwalin said, from the far side of the cave (which wasn't very far at all). Soon all of the dwarves had squeezed inside and they barely fit comfortably.

Gloin dumped a pile of kindling into a heap on the ground. "Alright, let's get a fire started."

"No," Thorin said. "No fires, not here." He addressed the company as a whole. "Get some rest. We are to start out at first light."

Balin came up at his elbow then. "We were to wait for Gandalf in the mountains. That was the plan."

Thorin, who was sick of the mountains and sick of waiting around on wizards, said, "Plans change."

They spread out across the ground, using their packs as pillows and not bothering with their bedrolls. Bofur took the first watch and everyone settled in on the hard rock, all so thrilled to still be alive that they didn't even complain about the accommodations.

Even Thorin, who still felt a tickle of uneasiness, thought that maybe their luck was improving just a bit. At least, they were out of the freezing rain. He stretched out on the ground, paying little attention to the sharp rocks that jabbed into his ribs, and closed his eyes.

Too soon, though, he was awoken to the sound of a confrontation. He recognized Bofur's voice and that of the hobbit.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bofur was asking,

"Back to Rivendell," Bilbo answered.

"You can't go. You're part of the company. You're one of us."

"I'm not though, am I? Thorin said I shouldn't have come, and he's right." At this Thorin felt the slightest twinge of guilt. He'd said that out of anger, even if he did think the hobbit would have been better off staying in his cozy little home, surrounded by his knick-knacks.

"You're homesick, I understand."

"No, you don't. You don't understand. None of you do. You're dwarves! You're used to this , to living on the road, never settling, not belonging anywhere." There was a moment of pregnant silence, and then Bilbo sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"No," Bofur said. "You're right. We don't belong anywhere. I wish you the best of luck. I really do." There was a sound, like Bofur patting Bilbo on the shoulder, and then, "What's that?"

Thorin didn't see the cause of Bofur's inquiry, but he did see the cracks spreading across the cave floor. They stretched from one end to the next, spider-webbing across the ground. He shot up and yelled, "Wake up! Wake up!"

The others sprung awake, but not soon enough. The ground suddenly collapsed inward and they fell into a deep, twisting tunnel. They slid downward, spiraling and flopping head over foot until finally they crashed into a large cage with bars made from bone. All around came a horrible shrieking, and then Thorin saw them.

They swarmed the dwarves, climbing up from below, swinging down from above, rushing at them from along the rickety walkways that had been built deep inside the mountain. Goblins. Hundreds of them. All foul, all hideous.

The goblins grabbed them from the cage and pulled them along the walkways, snarling and snapping and scratching at them all the way. Thorin and the others fought back as best they could, but they were outnumbered and the goblins quickly stripped them of their weapons.

They were taken deep within the goblin camp, through the maze-like intersections of creaky walkways, passed ramshackle homes built into the walls and the sneering faces of yet more goblins that clung to the structures like bats. The goblins called them names, pulled at their beards, spit on their feet, until finally they came to a stop.

Thorin, who had been corralled to the back of the group, didn't see the imposing, disgusting creature until it had come almost upon them. The goblin king stood almost twice as tall as his minions, and was nearly three times as wide. He had pale skin and a large collection of fat beneath his chin that jiggled as he spoke. One of his eyes was a fair bit larger than the other and seemed nearly to pop from his skull. And all over the king was covered in festering sores.

"Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?" the goblin king asked, as his minions threw the dwarves' weapons into a pile. "Spies, thieves, assassins?"

"Dwarves, your malevolence," one of the goblins said.

"Dwarves?"

"Found them on the front porch," the goblin answered.

"Well, don't just stand there, search them! Every crack, every crevice!" The goblin king ran his greedy eyes over the dwarves. "What brings you to these parts? Speak!"

Thorin felt a great amount of pride in his company when not one of them opened their mouth. They stood there and stared the king down boldly, silent as a stone.

The goblin king huffed. "If they will not speak," he said, addressing the large crowd of goblins that assembled behind him, "then we will make them squeal. Start with the youngest!" He had turned his eyes to Ori who, although he wasn't the youngest (Kili was), did have the most innocent look about him.

"Wait!" Thorin pushed through the others, taking a place at the front of the crowd.

The goblin king laughed delightedly. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Mountain." At this the goblin king did a mocking sort of salute and the goblins laughed viciously. "Oh, but I forget. You don't have a mountain. You're not a king. Which makes you, nobody, really."

Thorin stared impassively back at the goblin, though inside his blood shot through his veins like fire and a red blaze had begun to spread across his vision.

"I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak. An old enemy. A pale orc astride a white warg,"

Thorin couldn't help the enraged words that left his lips, "Azog the Defiler. He was slain in battle long ago."

The goblin king smiled. "So you think his defiling days are over?" Laughter erupted in the goblin ranks again and the king moved toward a small goblin in what looked to be a birdcage. "Send word to the pale orc. Tell him I've found his prize."

The little goblin cackled and sped off down a rope, disappearing from view. The goblin king went back to his throne and began to sing a horrible song about breaking all of their bones and doing unspeakable things to their innards. Thorin cast his eyes about, looking for an escape. He knew the goblins were just toying with them, as goblins were apt to do before they killed their prey. The goblins would stretch it out, torture them and have fun with them before ultimately slaughtering them. Like a cat playing with a mouse before eating it. Thorin would need to find a way out before that could happen.

One of the goblins that was rooting through the weapons suddenly gave a shriek, and threw Thorin's blade, Orcrist, across the floor. It landed before the goblin king, who, upon seeing it, suddenly recoiled and yelled, "It is the goblin cleaver! Biter!

The goblins flew into a frenzy. They grabbed at the dwarves and forced them to the ground. Thorin resisted, fighting off as many grabbing, pinching hands as he could, but there were too many. He was thrown onto his back, several goblins holding him down.

"Kill them all," the goblin king screamed. He pointed at Thorin, "Cut off his head."

Thorin's eyes widened and he renewed his struggles as a goblin approached him, holding a rusted sword just above his neck. This was it, Thorin thought, this was the moment he was going to die.

But that was not what happened. Just as the goblin began to swing the sword down in a killing blow, a great blast of wind and shock of light filled the space that was the goblin king's throne room. It was a blinding blow, and Thorin was left just as winded and disoriented as the goblins.

But as the light faded he heard a voice calling out, "Fight! Get up and fight!"

It was Gandalf, come to their rescue once again. Thorin, rolled to his feet and, almost by instinct, found his sword. He wasted no time in cutting down the closest goblins, and, when the goblin king made to strike him with a war hammer he retaliated, swinging Orcrist up and pushing the king back. The giant goblin lost his footing and fell off the back of the platform.

Thorin turned to help fight off the goblins that had converged on his comrades when his eyes landed on someone he had not expected to see: the she-elf.

She had come with Gandalf, and was dodging between goblins, slicing off limbs with her short sword and kicking in teeth. She must have felt his gaze upon her, though, for she turned and met his stare without flinching. Her expression was full of defiance, but also courage. She nodded at him quickly, an acknowledgement, and then turned and followed Gandalf across a rickety bridge.

Thorin didn't waste any more time, though he was shocked and enraged and perplexed by the elf's sudden appearance. He ran after them, the other dwarves hot on his heels, as they raced to escape the goblin city.

* * *

So, this was a much more Thorin-centric chapter. Hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter will have some actual Thorin-Airemis interaction...and a certain pale orc that fascinates me...


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks again for all the support! Your comments really mean a lot, and I'm very happy so many of you are enjoying the story!

* * *

Chapter Six: The Defiler

* * *

The goblins seemed to materialize out of the walls, from beneath the flimsy walkways, some dropping from the darkness above. They swarmed the dwarves from all sides, cutting at them with blades so rusted and brittle they bounced off their chain mail, some shattering upon impact. Damp places so filled with mildew and rot were not suitable to steel, and so, despite the difference in numbers, the dwarves had a distinct advantage. Their own swords and axes and arrows were well maintained and arced through the darkness, slicing through goblin arms and legs and impaling heads. The dwarves cut a path through the goblin hoards, bellowing their rage and calling their companions onward into the fray.

Airemis was near the back of the group, helping Kili, Fili and Bombur to fend off those that sought to overtake them from behind. She had been trained in swordplay by some of the guard in Rivendell, though many of the courtesans had thought it a distasteful use of time for a woman to learn such advanced combat skills. Lord Elrond had seen the wisdom in her learning such things, however, and she had spent many months honing her skills with a blade. They had taught her archery as well, though Airemis much preferred her short sword. It was a weapon she had more control over, and, when in a fight, she wanted to have absolute control.

She ran onward, ignoring the terrible swaying and cracking of the misshapen boards beneath her feet. She did not let her mind wander to the thousands of things that could go wrong, being captured or falling from the walkway to a painful death not the least of which. Instead, she only let thoughts of battle enter her mind. Her body filled with a rush of adrenaline, and she moved on instinct, dodging grasping hands and swinging swords.

A large ladder swung from below and collided with the walkway nearby. Dozens of goblins scaled upward, screeching and clawing at each other to reach the dwarves. Airemis ran headlong for them, passed Bofur, Oin and Gloin who were hacking away at some goblins that had fallen down on them from above. She reached the goblins on the ladder who were just beginning to crest the walkway and stabbed the first of them in the chest. It squealed and fell back, pulling a few of its companions down as well. She wasted no time in kicking the ladder back with her foot. It wobbled, went completely upright, and then fell back in the opposite direction. The goblins screamed and then there was a great thud as they hit the ground far below.

Airemis didn't wait for the goblins to retaliate. She rushed after Bombur, hacking and stabbing and punching at any hideously malformed face that came into view. They were making quick progress through the goblin town. Gandalf led them, seeming to know exactly the way out of the mountain.

A few times they were inhibited by goblins swarming onto the platforms, or swinging down from the stalactites above, but every time there was a dwarf ready to thwart them.

They made it onto a final stretch of creaky wooden slats. On the other side a tunnel opened back into the mountain. But just as Gandalf and those in the lead had made it to the middle of the bridge the giant goblin king fell down in front, pushing the wizard back with his expansive girth.

All around the goblins converged on them, trapping them from all sides. Mocking laughter echoed from wall to wall and the goblin king took a taunting step forward. "You thought you were going to escape me? What are you going to do now, wizard?"

Gandalf righted himself and, unaffected by the goblins' harassment, rammed the end of his staff into the king's eye. The enormous goblin fell to his knees with a yell and the whole structure groaned and quaked. Gandalf sliced his sword across the goblin's belly, through many inches of fatty tissue.

The goblin king grabbed onto his enormous stomach and, with a look of profound shock, said, "That will do it." And then Gandalf swung again, cutting the goblin king's neck beneath the giant growth that hung below his chin. The goblin king fell forward and the structure broke through.

The dwarves all yelled out as the rickety bridge beneath their feet detached from the wall and began to fall. Airemis latched onto Bofur, who was closest, and they braced themselves against the very end of the platform as it skidded and scraped in an awful rush to the cavern floor. The descent was slowed, thankfully, when the platform lodged into a crack that wasn't quite wide enough for them to fall through, but then the wood snapped and they crashed into a heap of dwarves and lumber a few feet below.

Airemis, who had been near the edge, had rolled off completely, landing awkwardly on her shoulder. Pain lanced through her arm and she moved it gingerly, relieved to find that it wasn't broken or sprained. She knew that once the excitement of battle and the thrill of danger wore off, though, her arm would probably be too stiff and bruised to move much for the next few days. Inconvenient, yes, but not critical.

Next to her Gandalf had also emerged from the wreckage. He stood and brushed off his robes. The dwarves were still buried in a pile of broken wood.

"Well, that could have been worse," Bofur said. But not a moment after he had spoken the massive body of the goblin king crashed upon them. The dwarves all groaned and Airemis winced in sympathy, suddenly glad she had taken a fall.

"You've got to be joking," Dwalin said.

The dwarves all began to climb forth from beneath the behemoth goblin, kicking through wood and rolling out onto the cavern floor. Airemis helped to pull Fili from under one of the goblin's legs, and had turned to help Kili as well, but he had already squirmed out and was trying to rise to his feet when he spotted something above them. His eyes went wide and he yelled, "Gandalf!"

Everyone turned to look up as well, and what they saw had their hearts thundering in their chests and hot panic sliding down their spines. Goblins, hundreds of them, were coming for them from above.

"We can't fight them," Dwalin yelled. "There's too many!"

"There's only one thing that can save us now," Gandalf said. "Daylight. Come!"

They all scrambled after the wizard, running as quickly as they could through the nearest tunnel in the cavern wall. It was a tight fit, and they could only run in a single line. Behind them was the blood-curdling sound of goblins screaming, screeching and wailing, though it seemed they had enough of a head start. Soon the yellow glow of sunlight began to pierce through the darkness, growing brighter and brighter.

Up ahead they saw an opening in the mountain and beyond that was the warm illumination of the sun. Even from the back of the group, Airemis could see the green shapes of trees and smell the glorious loamy aroma of cold earth and pine needles. So, at least they were not running back into the mountains.

They emerged outside and were nearly blinded by the light after spending so long in the dark, but they ran on. They were on the side of the mountain and the land stretched in a steep decline, which made the going much faster and far easier on their tired feet. They finally came to a stop far from the tunnel from which they had escaped.

They were covered overhead by tall trees, but the ground was rocky and not far from where they stood it dropped off completely at a cliff line. Gandalf was counting heads, ensuring everyone had made it, but Airemis was looking only for one face in particular.

"Where is Bilbo?" she asked, turning on the spot and scouring the mountainside for any sign of her cousin. Her stomach roiled with sudden fear.

Gandalf and the others looked about as well, just noticing the lack of a certain burglar amongst them. "Where is our hobbit?" Gandalf asked.

"Curse the halfling. Now he's lost?" Dwalin said angrily.

"I thought he was with Dori," Gloin said.

"Don't blame me!" Dori cried.

"When did you see him last?" Airemis said. She pushed through the nearest dwarves to approach Dori, ignoring the huffs of indignation she received.

"I think I saw him slip away when they first cornered us," Nori spoke up, a bit shyly. He seemed a little intimidated by Airemis's intensity.

"What happened exactly?" Gandalf asked. "Tell me!"

"I'll tell you what happened," Thorin suddenly said. He moved toward the wizard but his eyes were on Airemis. "Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it."

"No!" Airemis said. "He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't abandon you all!"

Thorin came to within inches of her, staring down into her face. Fury and leftover adrenaline, both from their mad flight from the goblins and her own audacity, flamed in his eyes. "He has thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door."

Airemis's gaze fell to the ground and despair settled over her heart. But Thorin kept on. He turned to the others and said, "We will not be seeing the hobbit again. He is long gone."

The group grew quiet and sullen. Both Fili and Kili placed a hand on Airemis's shoulders. Even Gandalf seemed to deflate beneath his long grey robes. It seemed they had lost their burglar.

"No, I'm here," came a sudden voice.

Everyone turned in shock and saw him there, looking tired and bruised but otherwise okay and very much present.

"Bilbo!" Airemis couldn't contain the large smile that spread across her face.

Thorin looked at the hobbit with no small amount of suspicion, though he didn't seem entirely surprised, despite his previous words.

"Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf said. "I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life."

"We'd given you up," Kili said.

"How on earth did you manage to get past the goblins?" Fili asked.

Bilbo made a noncommittal sound and Airemis watched as he shuffled his feet a little uncomfortably. Then, in a movement she might have missed if she weren't paying so close attention, Bilbo tucked something in his pocket. She frowned, wondering what it could have been and turned her head slightly to see Gandalf also staring at her cousin's pocket. The wizard met her confused gaze, and said, "What does it matter? He is here now."

"It matters," Thorin said. There wasn't any anger in his tone, nor disdain. He was looking at Bilbo as though he had never seen him before and couldn't quite figure him out. "I want to know. Why did you come back?"

Bilbo met Thorin's stare. "I know you doubt me. I know you always have. And you're right, I often think of Bag End," he said, shrugging his shoulders in a helpless gesture. "I miss my books. And my armchair. And my garden. See that's where I belong. That's home. That's why I came back, because you don't have one. A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can."

Airemis beamed at her cousin and felt a sting behind her eyes as tears threatened to come forth. Thorin did not seem on the verge of tears, though he was giving the hobbit a contemplative look. Finally he nodded and everyone welcomed not only Bilbo, but also Airemis back into the group with much guffawing and slapping on the back.

"We should keep moving," Gandalf said. "Night will be upon us soon and the goblins will not be so deterred from giving chase."

Everyone groaned and stretched, but made to get ready to move on. Airemis had detached from Fili and Kili and was going to go join her cousin and Bofur where they were talking near an old pine tree, but she was halted when Thorin stepped in front of her.

He looked down at her curiously and asked, "And why did you return?" All of the other dwarves were too busy readying to continue on to take any notice of their conversation, but still, Airemis felt the need to speak softly.

"I know that you think I'm too weak to be of any value to this company," she said. "But I will fight to the very end. And even if you leave me behind again, I will follow."

"Why?"

"Because it's _right_," she said. "This quest. Taking back Erebor from the dragon. It is significant not only for you, for these dwarves, but for all of our world. Everyone in Middle Earth is connected to one another, and when something evil befalls one of us it affects us all. The dragon did not just take your home and scatter your people across the land. He decimated a stronghold, one that may be detrimental should darkness ever try to control the land again."

Thorin didn't look entirely convinced. "This is the reason you chose to come after us? For world peace?'  
Airemis shook her head. "No. If I'm honest, that is only a fraction of my motivation."

"Then why else?" Thorin pressed, and it was obvious that he wasn't going to let the subject drop until he had an answer.

"Because I don't have anywhere I call home, either," she finally said. "And if I did, I would fight for it, too. And because, despite the many ways in which you have tried to push me away, I can't help but admire you. Your courage and your strength, your resolve. You are an honorable man and I think you will make a great king, if given the chance. And that is something I wish to see with my own eyes."

Thorin was shocked speechless at this, his eyebrows so far raised they nearly touched his hairline. He stepped back from her then to let her pass on by. Airemis moved around him, feeling a little embarrassed for saying so much, but before she could disappear from earshot, he said one last thing.

"I do not think you are weak."

She might have thought she had imagined him saying that, it certainly was not in keeping with the few conversations they'd shared before. But she never had an opportunity to reflect on it. The woods around them suddenly came alive with the sound of howls.

It was a sound they had heard too recently to forget. Everyone turned to stare back up the mountain, unable to believe that their respite from danger could be so brief.

"Out of the frying pan," Thorin muttered.

"And into the fire," Gandalf finished. "What do your elf eyes see, Airemis? How close are they?"

Airemis scanned the ridges and trees until she spotted them, a host of orcs on wargback. Far more than they had faced the last time. "Close," she said. "They will reach us within minutes."

"Run, everyone!" Gandalf shouted.

They all turned and sprinted through the trees as quickly as they could, but soon even the dwarves could hear the sounds of pursuit. "They are coming," Thorin shouted in warning.

A few orc-less wargs reached them just as they hit the edge of yet another cliff. The dwarves stabbed at them and slashed with their axes and swords. Airemis led one to the edge and managed to knock it over the side, almost slipping herself. Even Bilbo managed to embed his sword into the skull of a great, snarling warg before Gandalf called for them all to scale the trees and hide in the boughs.

Airemis was at the very edge of the cliff and climbed the tree that grew upon the very tip of the craggy ground. She climbed quickly, watching as the others jumped onto branches of other nearby pines and oaks. Thorin and Gandalf had also chosen her tree, and when they were all high enough to evade the wargs, Airemis looked for her cousin.

She spotted him still on the ground, struggling to pull his sword free from the warg he had slain. In the distance, but not far, Airemis could see the orc pack closing in. She was just about to yell out a warning, but Bilbo dislodged his sword and ran to the closest tree. Dwalin reached down and helped to pull him up just as the first wargs swarmed in on them.

The beasts threw themselves at the trees, snapping and biting and trying to reach the dwarves clinging to the branches. A cavalry of orcs on wargback crested a small rise in the ground, and at the head of the pack was a terrible pale orc with eyes that glittered malevolently in the night like chips of ice.

"Azog," Thorin breathed, his face slack with disbelief.

Airemis started. "I thought he was dead." She stared at the huge orc, her eyes taking in his unusually pale skin and the scars that riddled his chest and face. And there, where the orc's left arm should have been, was a long metal limb adorned with wicked sharp spikes.

Azog met Thorin's gaze and he smiled, a horrible baring of his sharp teeth. The orc sniffed the air mockingly and said to the orcs gathered behind him, "Do you smell that? Fear. You're father reeked of it." He said the last to Thorin directly, and then called over his shoulder. "That one is mine. Kill the rest."

The wargs renewed their efforts to drag the dwarves from the trees. They leapt at the boughs, snapped their jaws, ripped at the bark and the roots with their claws. It was too much abuse for the trees to take. They began to groan and uproot from the ground. The dwarves had to leap from tree to tree to avoid the snarling mouths below. The trees crashed together, falling like dominoes until they hit the last tree upon the cliff to which Airemis, Thorin and Gandalf were already clinging. The entire company moved into the tree, crowding the limbs, and the wargs focused all of their attention upon that last tree.

Just as the tree began to tilt toward the cliff, Gandalf took a pinecone from a nearby branch and lit it on fire by way of magic. He tossed it at the ground, engulfing a patch of grass in flames. The wargs backed up a bit, wary of the fire. Gandalf lit another cone, dropping it down to Thorin. The other dwarves took up pinecones and borrowed a light from Thorin, then rained the fireballs down on the beasts, driving them back. One well-placed throw from Balin hit a warg on its hindquarters, and it ran off, howling in pain, its fur burning in the night.

The dwarves cheered, but their victory was short lived. Suddenly the tree ripped up from the ground and fell sideways over the cliff, held in place by only a few deep-set roots. The dwarves clung to the boughs as tightly as they could, but Ori couldn't keep hold and fell off, latching onto Dori's legs. Dori groaned and his own grip on the tree began to loosen.

"Gandalf!" Dori cried, just as he, and Ori with him, slipped from the tree. Gandalf was quick to throw down his staff for the dwarf to catch, but it took all of his strength to hold them both up.

Airemis was clinging to a branch, trying to pull herself toward the trunk. She looked down and could see open sky, a great stretch of blackness that was broken far below by an unforgiving, rocky landscape. The orcs were watching them all hang there, waiting for the tree to finally give up its hold on the cliff and tumble off, and carry them all to their deaths.

The sound of the orcs laughing was an awful affront to their situation. Airemis grit her teeth and inched along the branch. She had never hated anyone in her life, never truly despised anything. And yet, she felt such a consuming rage, an all-powerful hatred boiling in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to take her sword and drive it into the heart of every orc and warg that stood upon the cliff. She wanted to watch their eyes grow dull with death. And she wanted to laugh at _them_.

She had just made it to the trunk of the tree when she saw Thorin rise. He stalked forward, the glow of the fires illuminating the steel in his eyes and the grim, determined set of his jaw. Thorin paid no heed to the dwarves that called after him, nor to the taunts of the orcs or the growls of the wargs. His sole focus was the pale orc, Azog, who watched his approach with apt fascination and apparent excitement.

Airemis knelt on the trunk and noticed Bilbo next to her. He shot her a worried look, and then cast his attention back to Thorin. Airemis made to stand up, but her foot slipped on a patch of loose bark and she lost her footing. She steadied herself before she could fall off, but when she lifted her head the fight had begun.

Thorin, who had not had proper sleep in days, who had spent nearly a fortnight trekking through cold mountains, who had been battered and thrown about by goblins already that day, ran to face the pale orc head-on. But Azog had not spent the years idle. He was ready to meet the dwarf in battle again.

Thorin rushed forward, his sword raised, but Azog's warg leapt at him, knocking him down. Thorin rolled across the ground and rose as quickly to his feet as possible, but the orc was much quicker and struck him beneath the jaw with his spiked club. Thorin flew through the air, and landed on his back. Stunned from the blow, he could not move out of the way fast enough before Azog's warg locked its maw around his torso and lifted him into the air.

Thorin called out from the pain and all of the dwarves answered with cries of their own. Airemis struggled to get back to her feet, but her shoulder wrenched and she fell back, gasping.

The warg tightened its grip on Thorin, its teeth crunching through his chain mail. Thorin yelled and lifted his sword. He stabbed the warg on the snout and the beast howled and threw him from its mouth. Thorin flipped over in the air and took a hard landing on a nearby rock.

Azog laughed horribly at the sight of Thorin lying there, unable to move, gasping for air. The orc turned to one of his minions and ordered him to go forward and behead the dwarf.

Airemis scrambled up, fear causing her to go numb to the pain in her arm even as she realized that she would never make it to Thorin in time. But she needn't have worried, for, just as the orc approached and raised its blade to slice off Thorin's head, none other than Bilbo Baggins came to the rescue.

Bilbo tackled the orc, taking the creature by surprise. The hobbit, with more aggression and brazenness than Airemis thought possible, stabbed the orc repeatedly with his little sword and then jumped back to protect Thorin. He swung his blade before him, eyes wild as he surveyed the orcs.

Airemis ran for Bilbo, drawing her own sword. Behind her some of the dwarves had left the tree as well and were rushing for the orc pack. She reached her cousin just as another orc had come forward to take the hobbit down. Airemis swung her sword up in a high arc, ignoring the throbbing pain in her shoulder, and sliced through the orc's chest. He fell back with a squeal and the other dwarves emerged from the flames, slicing through the nearest wargs and orcs.

Airemis ordered Bilbo behind her and allowed a quick glance back to Thorin. His eyes met hers very briefly before he lost consciousness. She turned back to the fight, determinedly keeping her mind from dwelling on Thorin's wounds and whether he would live to see this night end.

The pale orc was staring directly at Airemis, looking furious and more bloodthirsty than she had ever seen anyone—anything—look before. Azog's gaze flitted between her and Bilbo, taking in their small statures, and recognizing they were not dwarves. He urged his warg closer and the beast snarled and snapped its fangs at them.

Airemis wasn't naïve enough to think she would stand a chance against the giant orc. If Thorin could not defeat him, then she knew she would stand no chance. And even if, by some miracle, she managed to kill him, there were a dozen more to take Azog's place, and the sun was fully set now, which meant the goblin's from the mountain would soon come searching for them as well. It was a truly hopeless situation.

Still, Airemis kept her sword held high and stared right back at the pale orc, meeting his icy glare with one of her own. Time seemed to slow down. Dimly she was aware of the others as they fought back the orcs, of the roars and metal on metal sounds of battle, but she narrowed her gaze to the most immediate threat.

Azog rushed for her then, his club swinging high over his head. Airemis braced for the impact, but it never came. Something came swooping down from the sky, knocking back the wargs and fanning the flames of the fire. Airemis craned her head back and laughed at what she saw. Eagles. The great eagles of the Misty Mountains. They had come to their aid!

The eagles attacked the wargs, grabbing them up and dropping them off the cliff. They gouged orcs with their talons. Sent great gusts of wind to knock them backward. And most importantly, they picked up the dwarves and carried them away from the mountainside.

But as an eagle gently lifted Thorin into its claws, Azog gave a great bellow and pushed his warg into a run, coming straight for Airemis and Bilbo. There was another eagle sweeping in, but it wouldn't be able to take them both before the orc was upon them.

Airemis met Bilbo's terrified gaze. She said, "I love you, cousin," and then pushed him from the cliff. He let out a yell, but it was cut short when he landed on the back of an eagle.

Before she could turn around or take her eyes from Bilbo, Airemis was grabbed roughly from behind. A clawed hand latched onto her arm and gave a vicious yank, pulling her up onto the back of a warg. She struggled, flopping around and kicking her legs, but the orc held firm.

At first she was terrified it was Azog, the giant pale orc, but the hands that held her were mottled grey and there were two of them. Her sword was promptly stripped of her and she could hear much grunting and snorting, the orcs speaking in their own language.

The voice that called out was harsh and deep, and very close. Airemis knew to whom the voice belonged, and she twisted her head around to see Azog on the warg next to her captor's. Azog looked at her with gleeful malice and reached out toward her with his metal arm. Airemis cringed away, but she couldn't escape the heavy scrape of the sharp spikes down her back.

Azog laughed then and said something in their guttural language. The other orcs and wargs answered with growls and screeches, and then they were moving, running back into the mountains with Airemis as their prisoner.

* * *

When Thorin finally awoke it was to an assault of injuries. Everything hurt. His back, his ribs, his head. His very veins seemed to throb beneath his skin. But more important than his pain was his last memory before blacking out: the hobbit coming to his rescue, and then the she-elf rushing into battle on behalf of him and her rattled cousin.

"Thorin," Gandalf said, relieved.

Thorin choked on a breath of air and croaked out, "The halfling?"

"Bilbo is here," Gandalf said.

Thorin rose to his feet with the help of Dwalin and Gandalf. His legs felt a little unsteady beneath him, but he managed to stay standing and found the hobbit, standing off on his own and looking disturbed and a little ruffled, but otherwise alright.

"You," Thorin said. "Did I not say you would be a burden? That you would cause trouble for us? That you have no place amongst us?"

The hobbit seemed to deflate at these words but Thorin advanced on him. "Never have I been more wrong in all my life," he said, and he grabbed Bilbo up in a tight embrace. He had misjudged the Halfling—and the she-elf, for that matter. Anyone willing to sacrifice their life for his was a worthy companion and friend. No longer would he look upon Bilbo and see only a fussy, pampered little man with no knowledge of the world. He would see loyalty, courage and nerve.

Thorin released the hobbit and turned back to the company, searching for the elf. He had more amends to make, and he felt it better to just get it all out at once. But her face wasn't there amongst the others. He frowned, "Where is the elf? Where is Airemis?"

There was a murmur of voices, shuffling of clothes and weapons as the dwarves all turned about to search for her as if she might appear out of thin air as Bilbo had before. Thorin looked around the company, his chest constricting not out of pain, but out of fear.

"Is she not here?' Bilbo asked frantically.

"What could have happened?" Dwalin asked.

"Has anyone seen her?" Gandalf asked.

"She pushed me off the cliff," Bilbo said. "When Azog was advancing on us, she pushed me off and onto the back of one of the eagles."

"But did anyone see her escape?" Gandalf asked urgently.

No one answered. None had seen such a thing. Thorin felt horror wash over him. If the girl was not with them, then there was only one other alternative.

"She is dead, then," Dori said.

"Dead?" Bilbo squeaked.

"Not necessarily," Nori said. "She may yet be alive. Maybe she got away from them."

"They were swarming the mountain. We're lucky any of us escaped," Gloin said.

"Then maybe they took her prisoner," Kili said desperately.

"Yes, we can't give her up for dead yet," Fili said.

"Do not wish such a thing," Dwalin said. "It is better she were dead than taken alive."

Bilbo shook his head in mute grief.

"How can you say that?"Kili asked, his face a crumpled mask of despair.

"They do not call him 'The Defiler' without reason," Balin said. The old dwarf rested a hand on Bilbo's shoulder and a heavy silence descended over the group. Even Gandalf had a hopeless look in his eyes, though he did walk to the edge of the cliff and call for one of the eagles again. When it returned to him and landed on the cliff side he made an urgent request and the eagle took flight again.

Thorin watched all this with a sort of numb detachment. He had worried that a terrible fate would befall the girl from the moment she joined the company, and now that fear had come to fruition. Now she was dead or worse. His chest burned and acid rose in his throat and all he could think about was the look on her face when she had said that she believed he would be a great king.

But how could he be a great king, Thorin wondered, when he had failed someone under his protection so completely?

* * *

When they came to a stop the orc threw Airemis from the warg onto the hard ground. She landed on her injured shoulder but rolled up onto her knees. All of the orcs had stopped and were dismounting their wargs. She looked around quickly, searching for anything she could use as a weapon.

They weren't too far from the cliff where the others had been rescued by the eagles. The ground was still rocky soil and clay, and all around were towering pines. She could hear the babbling of water nearby, a stream, she thought, or possibly a river. A potential escape route.

Azog had jumped down from his warg and was shouting orders to the other orcs. The pale orc was much larger than his minions and much larger than she had imagined he would be. When he turned his evil stare upon her, she felt ice slide down her back.

The pale orc strode purposefully to her. Airemis scrambled away but her back hit the legs of another orc and it grabber her up by the hair. She yelped involuntarily as the creature yanked her braid, baring her throat to Azog.

The pale orc stopped in front of her and smiled cruelly at her. He reached out his remaining hand and took hold of her jaw, roughly turning her face one way and then another. Azog barked something out in their foul language and the other orcs began to laugh. His claws dug into the soft skin under her chin but she refused to pull back and show weakness.

Finally, after a few more moments of scrutiny, Azog released her and said to the orc holding her, "Kill her. Take her head as a prize." And then the pale orc walked away, back to his warg.

The orc that had hold of Airemis dragged her back by her hair. She hissed in pain, and struggled against it, but it was much stronger than she was. Finally, when it had reached its own warg it pulled forth a weapon and raised it up over its head, ready to send it arcing into her neck.

Airemis didn't have time to think properly. Her body acted on pure instinct. As soon as she heard the blade cut through the air over her head, she threw herself forward with as much strength as she could. The blade barely missed the top of her head, severing through her braid instead.

When the hair fell away Airemis leapt to her feet, taking advantage of her sudden freedom. Her captor was too surprised by her sudden escape to grab her in time and she dodged passed it and ran with all her speed toward the sound of running water.

Behind her she could hear Azog's furious yell and the pounding of warg feet on the earth as they pursued her. She didn't dare look back, but ran on between the trees, over fallen logs and jutting rocks. She was very quick on her feet, but still she could feel the hot breath of wargs on her back, and if she had not stumbled upon the river when she did then there was no doubt that she would have been crushed in the maw of one of those hideous beasts. But she did make it to the river in time and did not stop to consider her actions before she leapt into the water.

It was a deep, but narrow body of water that ran down from the mountains, fed by tributaries under the rocks. As soon as she hit the icy surface the current took hold of her, carrying her downstream swiftly. She looked over her shoulder to see the orcs and wargs at the bank of the river, all staring angrily after her, but not attempting to pursue. Azog was there, too, and it was the pale orc's eyes that burned with the most chilling hatred.

* * *

Well, that was fun but extremely intense to write. This is not how I had originally planned this chapter, but somehow the story took on a life of its own and this what came out...hope you enjoyed it!


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks again everyone! I am always surprised when I wake up in the morning after posting a new chapter and I see my inbox is full. It's a beautiful thing, really, and somehow feeds my muse.

* * *

Chapter Seven: The Wanderer and the Bear-Man

* * *

The river carried Airemis a far way, winding mostly south, in the opposite direction she knew Bilbo and the dwarves would be. It began to narrow even further the farther it spread from the mountain, but the waters did not calm in the slightest. In fact, it seemed that the current became stronger, grasping at her clothes with greedy fingers and trying to pull her under.

Exhaustion had begun to settle in her limbs, and her shoulder screamed in pain anytime she moved it. It hadn't been too bad off before she had been taken by the orcs, but after their rough treatment and the jostling ride on wargback, Airemis was sure it was sprained now. She couldn't be certain how much time had passed, hours upon endless hours. Night had turned to day and the sun had slowly risen to a position high in the sky. It was a struggle to keep her head above the water and she looked for anything she could grab hold of to help her break onto the shore. But there was nothing to cling to, no vines or roots or banks of grass to grasp onto. There were only rocks, jutting up from the riverbed at sharp and dangerous angles.

Twice Airemis narrowly avoided slamming her head into the pointed edge of a river rock, and a few times she did feel something cut sharply at her legs or viciously across her back. She tried to fight the current, to swim to one side or another and forcibly pull herself from the water, but it was too strong and her body was too tired and injured and if she wasn't careful she would slip and submerge and she didn't know if she would have the strength to pull herself back up. So she let the current pull her onward, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in her shoulder and her back, and kept her eyes open for anything she could use to get out.

Despite her present predicament, Airemis did not regret her actions. She would have happily given her life to ensure that Bilbo and—surprisingly—Thorin were able to escape. It was worth her dying, she thought, to know that they were safe to continue on the quest, to retake Erebor, and to live out the rest of their days in comfort and happiness. That was her wish for them, for all of the dwarves.

The only problem was that she didn't know for sure whether they were alright. She had pushed Bilbo onto the back of one of the eagles, so she felt safe in assuming that he was unharmed. But Thorin had been injured pretty badly when last she had seen him. His face had been riddled with bruises and cuts, and she knew there was damage beneath his chain mail from the warg's teeth. A knot of worry squirmed in her belly as an image of Thorin lying unconscious on that rock popped into her mind. She had never seen him look so vulnerable, so broken, and it terrified her in a way that she didn't understand.

Airemis didn't know why she was so singularly worried about Thorin. He had been little else than cruel to her, often cutting her nasty looks or degrading her with his words. And yet, she truly did see something in him that was inspiring. He had a regality about him, an aura of purpose and strength and integrity that made her want to see him succeed in his endeavor. The thought of him injured or dead made her feel sick, made her heart clench and her lungs constrict. So much depended on that dwarf—in a way, _she_ depended on him—and Airemis didn't think she could stomach it if something happened to him. Even if he did drive her mad.

The river suddenly dropped about five feet, hitting a small patch of rapids. It wasn't extremely violent, and yet, Airemis was not in the condition to brace herself. She had been too long without rest and her body was slow to obey her mind's commands, so that when she saw the large rock just up ahead and tried to move out of the way, she only managed to avoid the worst of the blow. Her left side still smashed into the rock and her feet slipped on the loose pebbles that made up the riverbed. She dunked under the water for only a second, but it was long enough for the current to snatch her and pull her body into an uncontrollable spin.

Her back slammed into another rock as the current rolled her under the surface of the water, and then it spun her around and headfirst into another rock. Her vision swam in darkness, pain lanced through her skull, and she knew she was fighting a losing battle for consciousness. Soon she would pass out completely, unable to reach the surface of the water, and she would drown. Already her lungs burned for air, her ears rang, and her sight was bursting with ever-growing patches of black.

She couldn't hold it any longer. Her mouth opened, almost involuntarily, and water flooded inside her, choking her, scorching a path deep down into her chest. She gagged, but only more water filled her nose, her mouth. She couldn't pull herself up, couldn't fight the current. She was tired. So tired.

Dimly she was aware of a nearby voice. It was masculine and garbled, as if the person were speaking through thick glass. She couldn't understand it. A strange peace had begun to settle over her now, but the voice kept calling out and she wished they would just shut up already and stop bothering her. Something latched onto her arms, a pressure just above her elbows. There was a rushing sound, and then cold air wrapped around her. Airemis gasped and it was precious air that met her hungry lungs. She choked and sputtered and a hand slapped her roughly on the back, not heeding the large gash that cut across her shoulder blades.

She blinked the water from her eyes, but her head was still spinning and her vision wouldn't clear. There was a shape next to her. It was very large and she could make out hints of brown and grey, but no exact details. And then her body gave in to the blissful darkness that had been threatening since she hit her head, and Airemis fell unconscious.

* * *

It had been necessity that had urged them onward. The danger of the pursuant orc pack was still fresh on everyone's mind and Thorin knew he had to ensure their safety. He couldn't allow another of his company to fall victim to Azog. And so he pushed them on, not allowing them to stop and grieve their recent loss.

Perhaps he seemed cold-hearted, or unaffected, but it would be too much for Thorin to bear to see the pale orc destroy anyone else he cared about. And he did care for the others, each and every one of them. Even the hobbit and the wizard. He felt a deep responsibility for them, and he couldn't abide anything as terrible as Airemis's fate befalling them.

Thorin tried to keep his mind off the girl. He knew the chances of her survival were slim and even if she was alive it was as Dwalin and Balin had said: she would be better off dead. He knew what orcs did to the women they captured, the many ways in which they would break her. They would use her like a plaything, passing her around for sport, and then, when she was too battered to use any longer they would dispose of her, or worse, eat her alive.

It was an image that often plagued his mind, Airemis bloodied and abused, being befouled while the monsters looked on and cheered and called out taunts and insults. Despite trying to think of other things, it seemed his brain could only conjure up such vivid nightmares. He slept little, ate even less, though no one in the company seemed to notice. They rarely said more than what was necessary. There were no jokes around the fire, no songs nor tales. A profound sullenness had descended upon them all.

Fili and Kili would no longer indulge in tricks or pranks. Bofur had ceased his usual teasing. Dwalin's proud shoulders now sagged and his eyes rarely made contact with anyone. Bilbo had reverted into himself, never speaking much and always watching the skies for signs of an eagle bearing some welcome news.

The eagle that Gandalf had sent out had returned to them four days hence, but brought no great news. It had found the ridge upon which they had been rescued empty and when it swept over the mountainside it had found no trace of the orc pack. The creatures had moved on, possibly taking to a cave for cover, and the group had lost what little hope they had been holding on to.

"There is something I must divulge," Gandalf said, breaking Thorin from his musings.

They had been traveling nonstop all day, though no one had voiced any complaint, Thorin figured it wouldn't be any harm to allow for a short break. "What is it?" he asked.

The other dwarves had stopped as well and all gathered around the wizard. Gandalf looked to each of them, his eyes heavy with sadness and resolve. "I have seen you safely over the mountains, but for me, this journey is almost up. I will accompany you a little further, but then I must away on business of my own."

The dwarves all protested at this.

"What? But we thought you would see this through," Dori said, outraged.

"What business could be more important than taking back Erebor?" Nori demanded.

"You're abandoning us?" Kili asked.

"You can't just leave us!" Fili said.

The dwarves were working themselves into an uproar, even Bilbo was voicing his concerns. It became too much for Thorin, who seemed to have less patience than normal in the past few days. "Enough!"

Everyone fell silent and looked to their leader. Thorin went on, "Gandalf is free to come and go as he pleases. This quest is not his responsibility and we have no claim over his time, nor do we have the right to demand answers from him." He turned to the wizard and said, "How much further will you be able to accompany us?"

Gandalf leaned on his staff, giving Thorin an appraising look. Apparently he had not expected the leader of the group to come to his defense like that. "I will see you to a friend's home where we can enjoy rest and replenish our supplies, and from there I will travel with you to the edge of Greenwood—or Mirkwood, as its inhabitants now call it. I will depart from you there. Though I may come to check back in with you at a later time."

Thorin nodded, though this news did not please him. "And who is this friend to whom you are leading us? Another elf?" There was no anger to his words, just curiosity.

"No, he is most certainly not an elf," Gandalf said. "His name is Beorn and he is one of the only people who lives in this area. You will have to be very polite when I introduce you all. I will introduce you to him slowly, in small groups of two at a time, I should think. And you must be careful not to annoy or offend him or who knows what may come of it! He can be terrible when he's angry, though he is a pleasant enough individual when the mood is right. Still, I must warn you that he angers easily."

"And you don't have any more easygoing friends?" Gloin asked.

Gandalf shook his head. "Not in this part of the world. But Beorn is a trusted friend and ally. He is very strong and, if you must know, he is a skin-changer."

"A skin-changer?" Ori looked positively frightened by the aspect.

"Yes," the wizard said. "He changes his skin, just as the term suggests. Sometimes he is a man, and a rather large one at that, and sometimes he is a bear."

"A bear?" Bofur asked. "Of course a bear. Couldn't have been a nice little bunny or kitty, but a _bear _of all things."

"Airemis would have loved to meet him," Bilbo suddenly said. He was staring off at a point over the wizard's head, his eyes glassy. "She would have thought someone like him grand."

The dwarves quieted at this, all falling back into somberness. Gandalf laid a hand on Bilbo's shoulder and said, "And Beorn would have been equally enchanted by her. As are most who have enjoyed her company. Your cousin always possessed a certain talent for capturing hearts, and she will ever live on within those whom she touched."

Bilbo looked on the verge of breaking down at Gandalf's lament, so Thorin, who couldn't allow for such a thing when his own heart hurt, said, "We have a few hours left before nightfall. I'd like to put more distance between ourselves and the mountains."

Gandalf nodded. "Good idea. We can cover most of the distance between ourselves and Beorn's halls this evening, and then reach him by mid-morning tomorrow."

And so they carried on unstopping until long after the sun had fallen from the sky.

* * *

Airemis's head was pounding, her back felt flayed open, her limbs were sore and weak, and her tongue was dry and scratchy like a cat's. She had only been awake for a few moments, but the second she had become lucid her body had quickly reminded her of the beating she had taken from the river.

She peeled her eyes open, blinking blearily and trying to clear her vision. Her headache seemed to culminate right behind her eyes though, and she quickly shut them, unable to suppress a groan. And that's when she heard it: the shuffle of booted feet coming nearer, the swish of heavy fabric and the sloshing of some liquid. She tensed, her muscles screaming from the movement, and snapped her eyes back open, trying to focus on the approaching figure.

"Easy," said a gravely voice. "I mean ye no harm." The figure squatted next to her and slowly Airemis was able to make out the weathered face and grizzled beard of an old man. He leaned next to where she lay upon the ground, and he gently lifted her head with one hand, bringing a crudely made clay cup to her lips with the other. Her enormous thirst overpowered her suspicion, and she drank deeply.

She had expected water, or maybe even honeyed wine, but what hit her tongue was a strong mixture of warm herbs and spices. She coughed, caught off guard, but as she swallowed the liquid she felt an immediate relief. A tingling heat spread through her veins, washing away the stiffness in her limbs and the aches that had settled into her bones, and even the persistent throbbing in her skull began to abate.

"What is that?" she asked, when she had finished the entire cup and the old man had laid her head back down. She looked at him closely, studying his features. He was obviously old, but not decrepit. His body was not gnarled and stooped, but looked to be strong, if not a bit stiff around the joints. His face bore many lines, and his hair was completely grey, but his eyes still shone with sharp intelligence.

"Just a simple tisane," he said, waving her question off. Airemis didn't believe it was just an ordinary medicinal tea, though. The effects were too immediate. There was some sort of healing magic at work here.

"Who are you?" She stared up at him, taking in his worn brown pants and the grey cloak wrapped around his shoulders. She only just noticed that they were in some sort of hut with a fire burning in the middle of the small, round room. The walls were made from thick wooden sticks and lots of mud, and there was no ceiling, just a slope of yet more sticks and a large open hole at the top to let out the fire smoke, she thought. She was lying bundled in a pile of animal furs, and all around the walls hung weapons and snares, and a few dead foxes and rabbits.

"My name is Dagget."

"Dagget," she repeated. "And is this your home?"

"I don't keep just one home," Dagget said, "but many. I'm a wanderer. I don't set down roots. I go where I please, and I do as I please."

Airemis nodded in understanding. That was how she had lived her life since her father had died. "Sounds lonely," she said, more an observation than a question.

Dagget huffed, "I like being alone. I find the company of others to be bothersome."

"Is that why you're here? So far from any towns or settlements? To be alone?" Airemis knew she was annoying him with her questions, but something about the old man intrigued her. Her eyes kept roaming over to the weapons: swords and a couple bows and several quivers of arrows. There was even a spear propped against the wall of the hut. They were expertly made, she could tell, crafted by skilled hands. Probably Elven make, if the long vine-like etchings on the scabbards and shafts were any indication. Similar to the sword her mother had bequeathed to her, which was now lost to the orcs. A pang of loss hit her as she remembered her sword being stripped of her. That was one of the few mementos she had left of her mother. It had been a fine blade, and the weapons in Dagget's hut were just as nice. These were not the weapons of an aimless wanderer.

"Aye," he said. "I came this way to enjoy time to myself. There are few who enter these parts, and even fewer who make a home this far north of Rohan. So, imagine my surprise as I'm out fishing and I see what appears to be a young boy, all alone in the wilderness, and drowning not ten feet from where I'm standing, scaring off all the fish, too!"

"I'm not a boy," Airemis said. "And I'm not a child, despite my size."

"I know that now," Dagget said. And then, when she shot him a funny look, he went on, "I had to rip off your wet clothes, lest ye freeze. And ye had some nasty cuts that needed bandaging."

Airemis's eyes widened at this and she quickly lifted the furs that covered her and took a peek beneath. Sure enough, she was completely naked except for a few gauzy wrappings around her ribs and on her thighs. She pulled the furs back down and felt her face flame. She shot the old man a wary gaze.

"No need to worry for your virtue. Taking advantage of an unconscious girl has never been an interest of mine," he said. "Besides, ye have nothing to offer that would tempt me, little one. I like my women—when I am in a mood to entertain a woman, that is—to have some meat on their bones. Ye are entirely too skinny to be appealing."

The words should have been offensive, and yet Airemis felt herself relaxing, feeling more at ease and decidedly less embarrassed.

Dagget turned away from her then and dug around in the embers of the fire with a pair of metal tongs. He pulled a small pot from the fire and brought it up to his nose, close enough to singe his whiskers, and took a deep sniff of the contents.

"That should do it," he mumbled to himself, and then he turned back to her. "Turn over. I need to change your bandages."

She flipped onto her stomach without complaint, though her ribs did ache in protest. It seemed she had bruised those as well. Dagget set the little pot down on the ground near her head and pulled the furs off of her back, being careful to allow her as much decency as possible. He carefully removed the bandages from her back, but the fabric stuck to her wound and Airemis hissed in pain as it finally tore free.

"Sorry lass, I know that is unpleasant," Dagget said. "I gathered some nice herbs, Linseed flax mainly, and it should set ye to rights soon enough." He dipped a swath of cloth into the pot on the ground. "This may burn a bit," he said and began to apply it to the gash on her back.

It did burn, but not in an entirely unwelcome way. Airemis knew she was right in assuming the old man was using healing magic. She could feel the poultice as it made contact with the wound, the sizzle of dying infection. The pain ebbed away and an itchy sensation flared across her skin. She would have reached back to scratch at it, except the old man began to bind it, calling for her lift up enough that he could wind the clean bandage under her ribs as well.

"Alright," he said, when finished. "Anywhere else that hurts?"

"My shoulder," Airemis admitted. "I think I've sprained it."

"This should help with that, too." Dagget scooped up some more of the poultice and had her indicate which shoulder needed tending. He massaged the gritty spread into her skin and Airmeis couldn't stop the sigh of relief that flew past her lips. The old man just chuckled.

Airemis watched him as he wrapped another length of bandage around her arm and then started gathering up his medical supplies. "How is it a Dunedain ranger came to know so much of the healing arts?"

Dagget paused, his face a mask of shock. "How did you know that I was a ranger?"

"Your weapons," she said. "And you wear simple, yet sturdy garb. The sort of clothes that can weather most terrain and will not wear out easily. And your easy acceptance of a life of solitude. These things in combination led me to the realization that I was in the presence of a Westernesse man."

Dagget held up his hands in surrender. "So you know my secret. I am as you say, though I have not performed the duties of a ranger for many years now."

"And your healing magic? Did you learn that from the elves?"

"No," he said. "My mother was a hedge-witch. She taught me what she knew." He eyed her beadily, in the way that someone who was unaccustomed to being questioned might do if trying to deflect attention from themselves. "But the real question is what be ye? Not an elf, not fully. And certainly not a dwarf."

"I am half-elf," Airemis said, "and half-hobbit."

Dagget didn't seem too surprised by this. "I like hobbits. Quiet folk. Don't go poking about in other's business too much. Which begs another question, what is a half-elf, half-hobbit doing out in the wilderness all by her lonesome?"

"I wasn't alone," she said. "I had been traveling with a company of thirteen dwarves, one wizard and another hobbit."

"A strange company," Dagget said. "How did you get separated from them?"

"We were attacked by an orc pack. I was captured but managed to get away."

"Not unscathed, though," he said, but he didn't pry. "So where are your friends?"

Airemis thought for a moment. Gandalf had told her of the path the company was to take to the Lonely Mountain. First to Beorn's, then through Greenwood. She didn't think she would be able to catch up to them at the bear-man's home, so she said, "Greenwood Forest. At least, they should be on the way there now."

Dagget scoffed. "Greenwood? No one calls it that anymore. It's known as Mirkwood these days. Terrible place to be."

"That's where I have to go," she said determinedly.

"Then that's where I'll help you get to," he said and rose from the ground. He turned his back to her and began digging through a pile of cloth on the other side of the hut.

"Really?" Airemis asked, her voice filled with uninhibited appreciation and joy. She sat up, clutching the furs to her chest.

"Course," Dagget mumbled. "I want my peace and quiet back! I'll take you to the forest, but no further than that. You'll be on your own from there."

"Thank you so much!"

"Don't go thanking me yet, lass. Ye may regret my help later." He tossed a bundle of clothes at her. "Get dressed. We'll have a nice dinner, and in the morning we'll make for the forest."

Airemis waited until he left the hut to put the clothes on. They weren't hers, but they obviously weren't Dagget's either. There was a pair of sturdy brown trousers and a masculine linen shirt, but they were far too small to fit the old man. And they were old. Not worn, but not in keeping with the current fashions. She wondered why he would have a child's clothes, and a horrible thought struck her: perhaps there was a very good reason for Dagget wanting to live in solitude. Perhaps there were other motivations behind his saving her from the river, especially when he had thought she was a young boy drowning in the water.

Airemis ran her fingers over the shirt that she was sure had once belonged to Dagget's own son and she wondered what it must cost the old man to part with it.

* * *

It seemed like an age before they finally made it to Beorn's halls. First they passed through his fragrant bee-pastures, and all marveled at the especially large and lovely bees with such richly colored bodies they shone like gold in the sunlight and hummed in such a way that was nearly musical.

The company walked through great fields of flowers until they came onto a copse of trees and the wizard called them all to a halt. "Wait here until I whistle for you, and then come only in groups of two. Let about five minutes between each pair before you come along, mind. Bombur is the fattest and can count as two himself. He will come last and alone. Come now, Bilbo, the smallest shall accompany the largest!"

And so Bilbo went with Gandalf through the trees and down a path toward a high wooden gate. Thorin watched them go with an air of boredom, though inside he felt restless. If not for the fact that they were out of supplies, he would have rather continued on their journey than take a respite. This quest, his mission to take back his home, was the only thing keeping his mind from dwelling on dark thoughts. He wanted the distraction of hardship and danger, of high adventure to keep the horrors he had seen and lived through from driving him to madness as it had his father.

After a time he heard a whistle riding on the wind and without much thought he called Dori to accompany him. They took the path that the wizard and the hobbit had just taken and it led them passed bountiful gardens and several low, wooden buildings. Some of them appeared to be sheds, some stalls and barns, and one that must have been the house, for that was where they found Gandalf and Bilbo and a rather enormous fellow.

The man was far taller than Gandalf, and many times wider. He had a full black beard and thick brows, and was monstrously built. Even in his human skin, Thorin thought, he rather resembled a bear.

"And who are they?" Beorn said gruffly, nodding his head toward Thorin and Dori. "I thought you said you had a few companions. This makes three, and I am not very fond of dwarves."

Thorin would normally have prickled at someone speaking to or about him in this manner, but he understood the need to keep the bear-man placated. "I am Thorin, son of Thrain. And this is Dori," he said, indicating the dwarf next to him.

Dori bobbed his head and said, "At your service."

"I need not any service you could provide," Beorn said. "Though I suspect you need my services. And if you are Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, I believe, and you lot are enemies of goblins and not out to make trouble in my lands—what are you doing here, by the way?"

"They are on the way to visit the land of their ancestors, and it is by grave misfortune that we have come to your lands at all," Gandalf said. "They were waylaid by goblins in the High Pass, as I was about to tell you—"

"So tell me," Beorn said. He was not a very polite man, Thorin noticed immediately, though Gandalf humored him and went on with the tale of their flight through goblin town.

Beorn interrupted again, however, when it became obvious that several of the key characters from Gandalf's tale were missing. "And where is the rest of your company? Killed, eaten, gone home?"

Bilbo gulped loudly at this and the bear-man turned his sharp gaze upon the hobbit. Gandalf cleared his throat. "Most of our party is well and simply awaiting my call before they come. We did not want to bother you with too many guests, especially if you were busy."

"Call them all forth," Beorn said impatiently. "We shall have a nice gathering. Though I take it you have lost some of your companions?"

"Just one," Gandalf said and let out another whistle to call the dwarves on. Thorin had to turn away as Beorn questioned the wizard further.

"What happened to him? The one you lost?"

"_She_ was taken by the orc pack that attacked us on the cliff outside the mountain."

Beorn looked surprised and angry. "You let a woman into your company? And then you let her be abducted—probably killed or worse—by orcs? Shameful! A disgrace!"

"Circumstances being what they were, there was no way to save her," Gandalf said sadly.

"She should not have accompanied you in the first place," Beorn said. "What idiot allowed her to come along? They should assume full responsibility for her fate."

"I take responsibility," Thorin said. He met the bear-man's hard gaze. "It is my fault, and mine alone. Her blood will forever stain my hands."

Beorn looked upon him for a moment, contemplating. "I want to hear the rest of the tale before I pass judgment. I don't like the idea of allowing a woman to fall victim to such a fate, but I will hear you out and determine at the end whether I wish to lend you aid."

"That is more than fair," Thorin relented.

And so, two by two (except Bombur, who came alone and last) the rest of the dwarves arrived and Gandalf finished the long, sad tale. He gave Beorn explicit details about the arrival of the eagles (Beorn had an affinity with animals and was particularly interested in that part of the story.)

Beorn also enjoyed the parts of the story in which Gandalf spoke of defeating the goblins, especially how the wizard had killed the goblin king, and several times he had cheered out loud. The bear man had growled low in his throat, a terrifying sound, when the wizard got to the part about being treed by the wargs and the pale orc taunting them.

It was when Gandalf reached the part about Airemis being taken hostage by the orcs, however, that Beorn grew taciturn. He wanted to hear about this girl who had accompanied them, who had helped to fight the goblins off, but no one had much heart to talk about her.

"I have not heard of many warrior women," Beorn said, after the tale was finished. "There are some amongst the elves, and when my people still roamed the mountains, before the orcs decimated us, we had a few within our kin. Still, a rarity. I think it would an affront to her memory, this girl, if I were to turn you away without offering help. Too bad all beggars do not tell such grand tales! You might be having me on, of course, but such a story deserves a good meal at least. Let us eat!"

Beorn ushered them all impatiently on into his home and called upon the many animals that resided within, horses and dogs and sheep, and they followed his commands to make ready the table and to bring out the food. The dwarves and Bilbo all watched in apt fascination, never having seen such intelligent creatures before.

They dined on rich honeycombs and sweet cream, on fresh baked bread and cheeses that were so soft they could be spread with a spoon on a cold roll. The dogs, who could stand upright on their hind legs and carry trays and all other manner of items with their forepaws, served them large pints of ale. All the while Beorn spoke to them of the wild lands, but most importantly of the dark forest, Mirkwood, and all the dangers that the woods presented.

The dwarves did not take his words lightly, for the forest was less than a day's ride from Beorn's halls, and they would soon be venturing in there themselves. It was the most direct route to Erebor, and time was of the essence.

Beorn invited them to sleep in his hall but warned them not to venture outside before dawn, and then he slipped outside and did not return that night. The dwarves all made beds upon the floor, enjoying the warmth of the fires in the great hearth and the contentment of full bellies. Soon the hall was filled with much snoring, but Thorin found little sleep that night. All he could think about was the disdain in the bear-man's eyes as Gandalf had spoken about Airemis's fate. It was a reflection of the disgust that Thorin felt with himself. He would ever be reminded of his failure. If only he had been strong enough to slay the pale orc, or wise enough not to challenge him. Things could have been so different.

When he did finally start to drift off, hours later, Thorin could have sworn he heard a voice in his ear whispering, "_Even if you leave me behind, I will follow_."

* * *

I love Beorn, he is one of my favorite characters because he is so rough around the edges, but he's also very honorable. I hoped I portrayed him true to character. Next chapter will be onward into Greenwood-_Mirkwood_-and finally our heroes' paths will cross again!

I'm making Thorin suffer a bit, but I hate when I read stories and everyone thinks that someone has died and they're just like, "Oh well, carry on."


	8. Chapter 8

Hello all! To all who reviewed the last chapter (and all the previous chapters) thank you, thank you, thank you! And very big thanks to everyone who put this story on their alert or favorited it! It means a lot!

* * *

Chapter Eight: Mirkwood Forest

* * *

As it turned out, the river that Airemis had leapt into had not been a river at all, but an unusually turbulent stream that fed from the mountains into the Sir Ninglor, or Gladden River, which then met with and became part of the Anduin. Luck had been on her side, however, in the form of Dagget. Not only had he saved her from drowning, but he saved her from being swept too far south, as well. As it was, she would have a fair amount of ground to cover to catch back up with the group, but she was far closer than she had dared to hope.

Dagget had made his temporary home across the Anduin, just north of the Gladden Fields. He had carried an unconscious Airemis for nearly two days, stopping often to change her bandages and to pull off her wet clothes (he had wrapped her in his own cloak and left her soiled clothes behind somewhere), and then had needed to go by boat to his little hut on the other side of the Great River. She had asked him why he had been fishing at a mountain stream when he was residing so near a river, but the old ranger had just huffed that she should be thankful that he was where he was and to stop questioning him already.

Like with the child's clothing that he had kept with his belongings, Airemis thought there was probably a very personal reason that Dagget had been at that stream, and she didn't think it was to fish. Some sentiment had driven him there, which was fortunate indeed for Airemis, though she thought that it must have been the result of a great misfortune for Dagget. She wanted to ask him about it, but she knew that line of inquiry would be most unwelcome. If he had once had a son, and then lost him, it would explain the ranger's want for solitude. He was a private man, and Airemis would respect that.

She spent one more night in his hut, and while she tried to give him back his bed, Dagget had demanded she sleep upon the furs again. She wasn't sure where he spent the evening, not in the hut, perhaps standing watch outside, but he was back by the morning and applied another coating of medicine to her wounds. The poultice had worked wonderfully and though she was still sore, she could move about freely and could even bind her own bandages.

They ate a simple breakfast of hard bread and some cold meat and when they had finished Dagget had doused the fire and gathered up all of his belongings—which truly wasn't much, when not spread about the room—and stuffed them into packs. The weapons he strapped to his hips and shoulders, and used his spear like a walking stick with the tip pointed up toward the sky. Airemis wasn't permitted to carry anything because of her still-healing injuries, though she did offer.

"I'll not have ye undoing all my hard work," Dagget had grumbled.

They left out shortly after dawn. According to the old ranger the forest was a little over a day's journey by horse, and should take them about two days on foot. As they walked, Dagget explained the strange happenings in the forest of late, of the darkness that had seemed to take over the woods.

"Tis a bad omen," he said. "I can feel the stirrings of evil and I fear that it is taking hold in this world again."

"Where did it come from?" Airemis asked. "The forest was not always so dangerous. Even on my last trip here, about eight years hence, the woods were safe enough to travel, if you stayed to the paths."

"I know not where it came from," he said. "Mayhap it was always there, lying dormant, and has only recently awoken. Whatever the cause, it's best to be aware of what ye face before ye face it."

"And what is out there?"

"Evil, as I just said!" Dagget was easily frustrated by conversation. "It's in everything. The trees, the animals, even the wind carries whispers of malice to your ears. And there is no light anymore. Between the trees is only darkness."

They slept that night on the open plain, but without a fire. Dagget, besides being unsociable, was extremely paranoid and distrustful by nature. He wouldn't risk drawing the attention of, "every bandit, rapscallion, orc or freeloader," that might happen through the area. It was a chilly night, but Airemis snuggled under the furs and an old cloak that Dagget had given her and she stared up at the stars. Her mind drifted as she slowly started to succumb to sleep, conjuring up images of Bilbo and Gandalf, of Fili and Kili and the other dwarves, and finally, just as she nodded off, a picture of Thorin's surprised face when she had told him that she admired him sprang up behind her eyelids.

In the morning they ate breakfast as they walked. Dagget told her that there wasn't much further to go and around mid-morning she could see it, the dark and looming shape of Greenwood—_Mirkwood_—Forest, still off a ways in the distance. They would reach it by the afternoon and then Dagget would leave her. This saddened her a bit because, despite his grumpiness, she rather liked the old man.

"Ye will reach the forest several miles south of the Old Forest Road. That path is often used by orcs nowadays, so it'd be best if ye took the elf path just north of it. It is more narrow, but foul things tend to avoid it," Dagget said. "This presents two options: either walk along the edge of the woods until ye reach the path, or cut through the forest to reach it. The second option will be much quicker, mind, but also much more dangerous," Dagget said, when they stopped to prepare a quick lunch.

"I have to reach my companions," Airemis said. "Cutting through the forest is my only option."

Dagget didn't try to dissuade her from this course of action. In fact, he spoke no more on the topic as they continued on their way. Though he did start singing a jaunty tune about jumping rope with goblin innards that nearly had Airemis gagging.

Finally, at close to a quarter after three, if she was reading the sun correctly, they reached the very edge of Mirkwood Forest. It was as Dagget had said, for not even Airemis's elven sight allowed her to see far beyond the first few trees.

"Ye will need to take caution," the old ranger said. "Despicable things now live inside these woods, as I've told ye. It would be a waste of all my efforts to keep ye alive if ye were to only end up eaten or worse inside such a place."

Airemis turned to Dagget and saw real concern in his eyes. She hadn't known him long, but she knew she would miss him. He was entertaining, to say the least. "You have done so much for me. I wish there were something I could do for you in return."

"Here's what ye can do," Dagget said. "Don't get killed." He slung a pack off his shoulder then and thrust it at her. "There's some food and water—not a lot, though ye don't eat much anyway—and more bandages and poultice for your wounds. There's also a bit of tisane, should ye need it."

She accepted the bag and was about to say her thanks, but Dagget wasn't through yet. He unfastened one of the swords at his waist. It was a short sword for him, but for Airemis it would function well as a long sword. He handed it over and said, "Ye seem to attract trouble, so ye will be needing something to defend yourself with, I think."

She took the sword and belted it around her own waist. It was heavier than her old sword, but not uncomfortable. She slung the bag of provisions over her shoulder and across her chest so that it lay flat against her hip. Then she looked upon the old ranger and a surge of gratitude overcame her. Before she could stop herself or even consider her actions, she had stepped forward and thrown her arms about the old man in an embrace. He stiffened in shock, not used to someone touching him like this, but after a moment he relaxed enough to pat her on the head.

"Alright, lass, ye best be getting on," he said, breaking away.

She smiled at him and said, "Thank you for everything. I will always count you as a friend."

He just nodded, a bit uncomfortably, and said, "Take care of yourself. I won't be there to patch ye up again."

Airemis waved goodbye to him and then entered the woods. She didn't look back, but she knew he watched her until she disappeared from view.

It was as dark as Dagget had warned her. Airemis had to rely more on her ears than her eyes as she made for the elf-path beyond the Old Forest Road. She wasn't sure which path the dwarves would take, but she figured she would have to pass one to reach the other, anyway. Airemis had always been good with directions, rarely ever getting lost, and she kept true to the northeastern direction in which she knew the paths lay.

All around the woods were eerily silent. The normal sounds of a forest were missing. There was no skittering of squirrels, no rustling in the underbrush, birdsong or babbling of a stream. The silence settled over the woods almost as tangibly as the darkness.

But Airemis was not afraid. She had a sword at her hip and a purpose behind her steps. She would find her friends and she would help them on their quest, and nothing of these woods would stop her.

* * *

They remained at Beorn's longer than Thorin would have liked. He had intended for them to stay one evening and then set out at first light the next day, but his company was exhausted and needed the time to relax and revitalize. Too much had happened in such a short time, and he couldn't deny them all the opportunity to unwind.

So it was on the morning of the second day that the dwarves rose from another blissful sleep in Beorn's hall and began to make ready to set out again. No one was looking forward to their trip through Mirkwood Forest, least of all Bilbo, who had shivered and all but fainted as Beorn had regaled them with stories of the dangers of the woods.

Beorn fed them again that morning and told them all about how he had gone off in his bear form to inspect the mountainside and had confirmed their tale. The area had reeked of orcs and wargs, he had said, and he had found evidence of the fires from Gandalf's pinecones. Though not a polite man by any stretch of the imagination, Beorn was gracious enough to offer them ponies (and a horse for Gandalf) for their journey to the forest, and he promised to send them with plenty of food to last them through to the other side, if they were careful. He did warn them to make sure they filled up with water before entering Mirkwood, however, for the only stream he knew of within the forest was dangerous, said to enchant any who drank from it or bathed in it.

"I will provide you the skins to carry water, and some bows and arrows, though I doubt you will find anything in Mirkwood that is fit to eat—unless you happen upon some nuts. In the darkness of that place I do not imagine you could shoot anything without straying from the path, and that is something that you must not do for any reason," Beorn told them. "I ask you to send back my ponies and horse when you reach the woods. I wish you speed and safety, and, most importantly, I wish you luck, for in that place you will need all the luck afforded to you. And remember, my house is open to you, if you should survive to see it again."

And on that cheerful note the company departed, taking the proffered food and the ponies and waving goodbye to the strange bear-man. They did not go in the direction they had originally intended, for Beorn had warned them that the path they were headed to was now often used by goblins, and that it would better serve their purpose—if their purpose was to evade the orc pack still hunting them—to take another path that was a little less known, but would lead them all the way to the other side.

They rode mostly in silence, and in this time Thorin couldn't keep his mind from dwelling on the ensuing dangers that they would undoubtedly face in the forest. He cast a look over his shoulder at the company, all of whom had reverted back to sullenness almost as soon as they had left Beorn's halls, and he wondered if he would have to watch another of them fall victim to tragic circumstance.

He had known, when he had set this plan in motion to retake Erebor, when he had called upon his friends and the wizard so many months ago, that such risks would exist. And all who had taken up the quest had acknowledged the dangers and chosen to follow him still. He reminded himself that even the she-elf—_Airemis_—had made the choice to accompany his group, despite the many threats upon her safety. And now she was gone, and all he could think about was losing another friend. He couldn't bear it to happen again, and yet, neither could he bear the thought of giving up on the quest, not when they were so close.

As they drew neared to Mirkwood, Thorin noticed something strange: all the usual sounds of the outdoors, of wildlife and the wind over the plains, seemed to die out until there was no other noise but the stamping of their ponies' feet and Bombur's heavy breathing. The forest loomed before them, looking every bit as haunted and evil as in Beorn's tales. The trees were tall and very wide, their trunks crawling with thick ivy, and a darkness spread between the trunks so thick that they could not see more than a few feet into the woods without a torch.

"Well," said Gandalf, "this is Mirkwood. The largest of any forest in this part of the world. Now it is time to send your ponies back home, and time also for me to say farewell."

The dwarves all groaned at this, neither willing to give up the wizard nor the ponies. "Now we have already spoken on this issue," the wizard said. "I have business away south and I cannot be late. You have in your company a great many good dwarves, and one excellent hobbit, and so do not despair! I have faith that all will end well. And if you do not believe as I do, then at least keep you mind off your misery by thinking of more pleasant things, like gold and jewels and slaying dragons."

"We're still none too pleased about this," Gloin said with a mutinous gleam in his eye.

"Are you sure we can't borrow the ponies a little longer?" Ori asked, rubbing his pony on the neck.

"No, you do not want to incur Beorn's wrath," Gandalf said. "Let the ponies return home, fill you water skins, and be on your way!"

The dwarves grumbled at this, but Thorin said, "He is right. We have a far distance to cover, and we need to make haste. Kili, Fili, Ori and Nori, fill the water skins. Oin, Gloin, Bofur, Bombur and Dori, sort and distribute the packs. We will all need to carry our own weight." Thorin turned to the wizard then. "Thank you, friend, for your assistance thus far. I'm not one for lengthy goodbyes, so I will just say it: goodbye!"

"And goodbye to all of you," Gandalf said. He turned his horse around and waved to them all. The ponies, no longer laden with packs and supplies, followed the wizard. "Good luck, and remember, do not stray from the path!" And then he turned and disappeared the way they had come with all the ponies in tow.

After the water skins had been filled and the packs evenly distributed amongst the group (with Bilbo taking the lightest and the smallest), Thorin led the unhappy party into the trees. They had to enter the path in a single file since the entrance was rather narrow, and lots of brambles and vines stuck out at the edges of the walkway, ready to snare an unsuspecting leg.

The darkness converged upon them almost immediately. The canopy of green-black leaves overhead blocked out all but the intermittent ray of sunlight, and all they could see were the great weathered shapes of trees and splotches of shadow. The sound of their feet upon the path was almost obscenely loud in the dark quiet of the forest, and it almost seemed as if the woods were holding its breath and watching, ever watching, like a predator waiting for just the right moment to spring upon its prey.

Eventually their eyes began to adjust to the lack of light, and they were able to see between the trunks a little way, and with the return of their vision some of their nervousness began to abate. At least, Thorin thought, the little hobbit wasn't clinging to Bofur's coattails any longer. Not that he blamed Bilbo for being frightened. The hobbit had never ventured so far from home, never encountered such horrible things as orcs and wargs and dismal woods as these. And even though Thorin would have rather liked a more hardy and seasoned burglar, he had to admit that Bilbo had proven his worth thus far. So when the halfling let out a squeal and tripped over a protruding root, Thorin bit back the acid words that he wanted to say and tried to keep a firm hold on his own dwindling patience. Though he couldn't help the annoyed look he sent over his shoulder.

The further they ventured into the forest, the silence began to give way to scurrying, rustling, grunting and growling sounds. Sometimes the undergrowth or the great piles of leaves on either side of the path would shake or crunch with movement, and often they would see a shadow darting from the corner of their eyes.

A few times Thorin spotted squirrels in the boughs of the trees. This might have made him less apprehensive—he actually quite liked squirrels, for dinner if nothing else—except that these creatures were strange and ominous in appearance. They were larger than an average squirrel, for starters, though terribly thin and bony, with black fur and the sort of disturbingly large eyes that animals who are unaccustomed to sunlight might have. The squirrels stuck to the trees, never venturing onto the path, and none of the dwarves, not even Bifur, who had been known to gnaw on raw squirrel from time to time, tried to make a meal of one of them.

More disgruntling than the squirrels and the noises in the forest, however, were the cobwebs. They hung like great, glistening nets between the tree trunks. Most were empty save for a few leaves, but Thorin spotted some that held the withered husks and dry bones of some very unfortunate woodland creatures. One such skeleton looked as though it might have belonged to a fox.

Fortunately these cobwebs never crossed over the path, and they didn't catch sight of any of the web-spinners. Whether this was because the path was protected by some sort of elf magic, or because the spiders that had made such large and terrible webs had moved on, Thorin did not know, but he was thankful for their absence nonetheless.

It did not take long, less than a day, really, before the entire company grew to hate the forest. They bemoaned the darkness and the stillness of the air, and wished for the warmth of sunlight and the smell of fresh summer grass. The dwarves, who were accustomed to spending months at a time tucked away from the sun, down deep in the dark tunnels of a mountainside, could barely abide the suffocating closeness of the trees. It was not the same, Thorin thought, to be trapped with a seemingly never-ending tunnel of forest as it was to burrow into rock and sediment. He felt stifled and on edge, and so did all the others.

They rarely spoke to one another, as though the gloom of the forest had descended upon their hearts as well as their eyes, and when they did talk it was often to make complaint or yet to snap and gripe at one another for the smallest of annoyances. Even Fili and Kili had become withdrawn and cranky as the days stretched on and it seemed as though they had made no progress through the woods.

But as awful as the days were, trekking down the unchanging path, the nights were far worse. The darkness escalated to a level that none would have thought possible. It became so pitch black that they could not see their own hand if held a scant inch from their noses, though they could still see the eyes. They knew not what creatures the eyes belonged to, only that they appeared when the light faded completely and would remain until morning, just watching from a little ways off the path or from the branches of the trees. They tried to light fires at night, but this only served to attract more eyes and also hundreds of giant black and grey moths that would flap about their ears. So they gave up the fires and chose the darkness over it.

The dwarves slept close together, always setting up a watch, though no one could see enough for this practice to serve much purpose. Thorin often lay awake into the night, unable to find sleep despite his weariness, and always wondering if the waking nightmare of the forest would ever end or if they would be cursed to roam this dreaded path forever.

* * *

They awoke early one morning, eight days into their trip through the woods, to the sound of Ori carrying on quite hysterically. It had been his turn to take the last watch, and as the other dwarves roused from sleep, it was to the angry knowledge that it was not yet time to wake. The great darkness between the trees had only just started to lift and they could see little more than the faint outlines of one another. They would have all just turned back over and slept on, but Ori was making such a noise, gasping and whining low in his throat like a dog.

"Whatever is the matter?" Thorin finally asked. There was more bite to his tone than there might ordinarily have been, but he had only just drifted into a blessedly dreamless sleep a short while ago and didn't much appreciate being woken up so early.

"There's something out there," Ori said. "In the woods."

The others all groaned.

"We know that, you fool," Nori said.

"Why do you think we have watches?" Dori asked.

"We're perfectly safe, lad, so long as we remain on the path," Balin said. "Those critters won't dare bother us here."

"No," Ori insisted. "Something is coming closer. I can hear it out there. Something's coming for us!"

"Keep your pants on," Dwalin said, yawning. "You're imagining ghosts where none be."

By this time everyone was fully awake and in a foul temper. They rose and gathered up their things, thinking to make for an early start. They ate a small breakfast—very small, as they were running low on food—and afterward Thorin led them on, feeling no more enthusiastic than any of them.

Ori, though he remained quiet for most of the trek, kept sending frightened glances into the woods and muttering under his breath. His paranoia, though annoying, was also infectious. Bilbo, too, was casting wary looks over his shoulders, peeking into the woods, and keeping so close to Bofur as they walked he was nearly joined to the dwarf's backside.

Thorin was becoming fed up with all that nonsense, and was about to tell the two off for being so cowardly, when he heard it, too. It was a rustling nearby, but different from the usual noises they heard from the woods. The sound of something crashing through the underbrush. Feet treading ground. There was an urgency to the sound.

Thorin halted the group and they all listened as the sound drew closer. The noise somehow seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, closing in on them from either side of the path. Rustling, crunching, crashing. It grew louder and louder. The dwarves all pulled into a tight circle and drew forth their weapons, and Ori cried out, "I told you something was out there!"

"Quiet, damn you," Thorin barked. But suddenly the great commotion of noise had stopped and a deadly quiet descended over them. They stayed frozen, their eyes sweeping the forest for any sign of movement. And then, just to the left, the undergrowth started to shake and tremble, and there came a skittering noise from within. The entire company turned toward the noise and stalked closer, weapons at the ready.

"What did that squirrel do to you, to deserve such a greeting?" a voice suddenly called from behind them.

It was a familiar voice, one that they had not thought they would ever hear again. Thorin's heart suddenly leapt into his throat, and he spun around quickly, not daring to trust his ears without proof from his eyes. But there she was, standing just across from them all, and smiling such a dazzling smile that it seemed as if she had somehow brought the sun into the forest with her.

She looked different than last he had seen her. To start, her hair was shorter, falling in loose curls and waves around her shoulders. It was an unfashionable look for a woman to have such short hair, but, somehow, it seemed to suit her. She looked a bit thinner than she had before as well, or maybe it was the old, baggy clothes she wore that made her appear this way. They were not the clothes she had been wearing when she was abducted. These looked to be clothes fit for a man, and this thought disturbed Thorin more than he'd like to admit.

All of the dwarves stared at her, mouths agape. No one moved nor made a sound for several seconds, until finally the hobbit seemed to snap out of his trance.

"Airemis!" Bilbo shouted, and he ran forward and threw his arms around his cousin, nearly knocking them both to the ground. She laughed and hugged him back, but the hobbit suddenly pulled away, frowning and a little teary-eyed. "We thought you were dead."

She shook her head with mock sadness. "You and I grew up together, Bilbo. You know me better than anyone. The fact that you have so little faith in me is just downright insulting."

Bilbo choked on a laugh. "I will certainly never doubt you again." He tugged on one of her curls. "Your hair is cut too short."

Airemis shrugged. "The great thing about hair is that it usually grows back. Heads, on the other hand, often do not."

"Oh dear," Bilbo said at the insinuation.

"How are you still alive?" Kili asked, the first of the dwarves to break from their stupor at her sudden appearance. His face was alight with wonder. Obviously, Thorin thought, his nephew did not mind her new haircut.

"You were taken by the orcs," Fili said. "We thought for sure that you would be killed."

"Well, they certainly tried," Airemis said. "But I got away. Jumped into a stream and let the current carry me off."

"And Azog, he didn't…" Bilbo started, looking uncomfortable.

"Didn't what?" Airemis asked.

"You weren't…" Bilbo was struggling for the words.

"Wasn't what?" She looked at him curiously.

"The orcs didn't…defile you, did they?" Bilbo turned a little green as he said this, and the dwarves all shuffled their feet, clearly feeling awkward. Thorin felt blood pounding in his ears as he waited for her response.

Airemis didn't seem to understand the question. She cocked her head to the side and repeated, "Defile me? What do you mean?"

"You know," Nori began, "_defile _you."

Suddenly Airemis went pale and her face pulled with disgust. "No! Absolutely not!" She looked like she might gag. At this all of the dwarves burst into merry laughter and converged upon her and a very relieved hobbit. Thorin let go of the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Fili and Kili reached her first and pulled her into a tight bear hug, and they might not have let go, if not for Dwalin shoving them off. The normally anger-prone dwarf yanked her up into a hug of his own, her feet dangling several feet off the ground, and, for good measure, he planted a great whiskery kiss right on her mouth. Airemis turned pink in the cheeks and Dwalin laughed, ignoring the glares being sent his way by Fili and Kili, and set her back on her feet. He slapped her heartily on the back several times before stepping back.

The other dwarves welcomed her back with much less physical demonstrations, though Ori did take her hand and place a polite kiss on the back of it. They were all spouting off questions to her, talking over one another in their excitement that at first, they did not notice Thorin's approach.

He pushed through the other dwarves, uncaring whose feet he trod on or whom he interrupted. His sole focus was on Airemis, on the girl who, by some miracle, was still alive and had found her way back to them.

"How did you get here?" Thorin asked. Everyone quieted at his question and Airemis met his eyes. She looked a little wary, probably because he had not often had nice things to say to her. But she didn't back down and she didn't avert her eyes. Thorin saw, and he wondered how he might have missed it before, that there was a quiet strength in her. He could see it in the firm angle of her jaw, the calm acceptance in her eyes, and the unwavering line of her mouth.

Still, Thorin didn't retract his question. He stared down at her and waited for an answer, his patience beginning to wear thin. No matter how relieved he was to see her alive, she had obviously risked her safety—yet again—in order to be here. What would he have to do to make this girl understand that while she might be immortal, a gift of her race (one of them), she was not invincible?

"Well?" Thorin said. The girl looked at him defiantly and he knew he would hate her answer.

* * *

Airemis had spent the last week dodging through the forest, fully understanding now why its inhabitants had started calling it Mirkwood. The woods truly were full of hidden dangers and a darkness she could feel sitting heavily on her mind.

She had seen much, slept little. There were many creatures that slunk through the trees that hadn't been here before: spiders—giant spiders with giant webs—strange hairless beasts that resembled cats, bats with fangs as long as small daggers. She had even seen a wraith drifting between the trees, but it had paid little heed to her.

The first place she had gone to was the Great Forest Road. That was the path Gandalf had told her the company would take, but all she had found there were a couple of stray goblins, which she had quickly dispatched. Dagget had told her of the path that lay just north of the Great Forest Road, an elf-path, he had said, and so she made for it. Spending most nights in the trees, which offered her some protection from the things that crept about the forest floor in the night. Although she was awoken by a very angry family of squirrels one morning, after she had spent the night practically inside their nest.

She had known that when she finally found the company of dwarves again she would have to tell them all that had happened to her. She had figured they would probably not approve of her hiking through the woods, unaccompanied and off the path. But she wasn't going to apologize for it. She lifted her chin and stared into Thorin's steely eyes as she answered his question.

"After I escaped the orcs," she said, her voice soft but firm, "I was rescued by a Dunedain ranger. He treated my wounds, gave me shelter and food. He brought me here, or, I should say, he brought me to the outskirts of the forest. I took a shortcut through the woods, and here I am."

Thorin suddenly reached out and wrapped his hands around her shoulders in a bruising grip. Airemis could feel the strength of each of his fingers as they dug into her flesh, and she figured she would have discolored reminders of this moment for days to come.

"Does your foolishness know no bounds?" Thorin asked, his fingers flexing as he spoke.

It was neither his words nor his grip that made Airemis flinch. It was the look on Thorin's face that cut deep into her heart, and nearly made her drop her gaze. He was staring at her with so much fear and desperation, and in that moment she realized that he had been _worried _for her. She didn't know what to say.

"You were lucky to survive," Thorin went on, his voice sounding strangely husky. "Why couldn't you have taken yourself from such dangers? Why couldn't you return home and just keep yourself safe?"

Airemis blinked up at him. All of the other dwarves had gone silent and were watching her, waiting for an answer. She stared up into Thorin's wintergreen eyes and finally found the words. "I already told you, I'm in this to the very end. I've made my commitment to this quest, to this company, to _you_. You will not be rid of me so easily."

Thorin did not speak. He did not relent his crushing hold on her. They continued to stare into each other's eyes for several long moments, and Airemis felt a horrible fear that he would make her leave. That he would send her back the other way and not allow her to accompany him any longer. After all, despite her words, if he so chose to exile her from the company—for her own safety, or whatever noble reason he had—what could she do to stop him, aside from stalk behind them the entire way? And that wouldn't do. She would run out of supplies too soon.

So she waited for him to say something, to yell at her and argue, or to huff out something in indignation, to sling insults at her. But he did none of these things. His response, when finally it came, was not at all what Airemis had been expecting. Instead of his usual caustic reply, instead of anger and disdain, instead of outright disgust or dismissal, Thorin looked upon her and smiled.

His face, normally so stern and serious, portraying the regality and stoicism expected of a dwarf prince, was nothing short of breathtaking when he smiled. Indeed, Airemis felt her breath hitch and her stomach clench in the most unusual way, and she thought that he should really smile more often. His eyes crinkled up just the slightest bit, his teeth gleamed straight and white, and all the burdens that weighed him down seemed to lift. This was a side of Thorin Oakenshield that Airemis had never dreamt would be shown to her, and that she only now realized she had wanted to see.

Thorin released her shoulders from his tight grip and said, "So be it."

This was enough of an affirmation for the other dwarves to cheer and begin patting her—rather hard—on the back again. She felt a great relief wash over her and met Thorin's eyes one last time. He was still smiling, though now it had turned into something that looked almost wistful. She smiled back at him tentatively, and wondered why her chest suddenly felt wild and fluttery.

Airemis shook her head and looked back to the others, when suddenly she noticed something. "Where is Gandalf?" she asked.

The dwarves all shared a look and then started laughing again.

* * *

Reunited and it feels so good...I hope you weren't expecting professions of undying love, still too early for that, but next chapter there will be some more Airemis-Thorin interaction and (gasp) some pleasant conversation?


	9. Chapter 9

Hello all! Sorry this took longer to get out. I have a crap-ton of homework to do. So, that being said, please don't be angry if updates are a little slower. I appreciate all your continuing support!

* * *

Chapter Nine: River of Dreams

* * *

It took an entire day before the wargs caught the scent. They had followed the stream, checking both sides for any sign that the little elfling had emerged and continued her flight on foot, but the water hid the trail from their sensitive noses and the orcs had all but given up. Then one of the wargs had finally picked up her scent several miles north from where the stream fed into the Anduin, and Azog ordered his troop to chase it.

There were many things that Azog despised: elves, men, wizards, _dwarves_. But more than anything, he loathed being thwarted. When he set a plan in motion, when he moved to strike against someone, he expected pleasing results. So when he had gone forth to put an end to the line of Durin, only to have his arm chopped off by an insolent young dwarf prince, he had been angry. When he had finally managed to find the dwarf after years of searching and marauding, Azog had known the joy of beating him down, of watching the fight ebb out of the dwarf's eyes, and he had thought he would take a most precious prize: the head of his most hated enemy. But then that little creature had run forth and stopped the execution so effectively by killing the executioner.

Azog had not lost his temper at this interruption. The little man had been quivering and frightened and though he had managed to slay one, Azog was certain he would be easy enough to get through to reach his prize. But then that girl had entered the picture, and she had not quavered in her resolve, even when the realization that she could not win in a fight against him had dawned in her eyes. Azog would have just cut her down, and the little man as well, but then the blasted eagles had come and taken the prone dwarf and the girl had pushed the little man from the cliff, and Azog had seen his opportunity to take revenge slip from his grasp, yet again.

It had been a slight victory when Gufzar, his lieutenant of sorts, had managed to capture the girl. Azog had thought, now here is a chance to make the dwarf suffer. Obviously there was some sort of connection there; they were part of the same company, friends, perhaps, or maybe even lovers. In any case, Azog had figured the sight of her detached head might be enough to provoke the dwarf into another fight.

But the girl had been wily. She had escaped a beheading, and then thrown herself into the stream—very smart, for it was difficult for wargs to follow a trail through water. As he had watched her drift quickly down the stream, a new sort of hatred had boiled in Azog's gut, accompanied by another emotion he did not often entertain: admiration.

It wasn't a regular occurrence that his prey escaped him, and Azog was determined that it would not happen again. He pulled the severed length of hair from where it had been hung on his belt and brought it to his nose. He inhaled the girl's scent, so fresh and lovely still, and imagined his hand wrapped around her throat, the shine of life leaving her eyes. He would revel in her death, though not quite as much as he would the dwarf's, because, although he loved a good challenge, Azog hated being thwarted more than anything.

That was why he had led his pack of orcs and wargs over the plains, following the trail that the girl—and her new companion, a human, probably male—had left behind. Azog didn't normally like to spend so much time out in the open, where any elf or man could send arrows flying at his head, but this was a part of the world that was mostly uninhabited, and if the girl had come this way then it was not without purpose. She would lead him to Thorin, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, King Under the Mountian. And Azog would destroy them both.

* * *

Airemis was suddenly wracked by a violent shiver. Not the sort that is borne from chill, but the kind of full-body tremor that sneaks upon you when least you expect it and is, therefore, impossible to subdue. A creeping finger of dread trailed from her neck down her spine and she couldn't help but send a wary glance into the woods, as though the object of her unease might materialize.

"What's the matter?" Bilbo asked. He had not left her side since her unexpected return, and kept a firm hold on her elbow as they walked, almost like he thought she might vanish again if he turned away.

"Nothing," Airemis said. "I just had a sudden shiver."

"Well, you know what that means, right?" Bilbo asked. He gave her a small smile, his eyes twinkling. "Someone is thinking about you!"Airemis was about to roll her eyes in dismissal of her cousin's teasing, but then Kili came up from behind and slung an arm over her shoulders.

"Guilty," Kili said, and dropped her an exaggerated wink. He didn't remove his arm, and Airemis could feel his fingers lightly skimming over her collarbone. It seemed a deliberate touch and her stomach squirmed uncomfortably. She really liked Kili, and Fili, too, and counted them as great friends. She hadn't known them terribly long, but she felt a kinship to them both. She would do anything to make them happy, and she would gladly trust either of them with her life.

The problem was that the more time Airemis spent with the brothers, the more she was beginning to think that they had far less platonic expectations of her. Their touches seemed to be more lingering of late, the looks they sent her more yearning. She didn't know how she was going to handle this situation. Airemis didn't have much experience letting down suitors, and the only time she had rejected someone's attentions, it had turned out rather badly. She didn't want to lose either of them as friends, and yet, she didn't think she would ever be able to see them as anything more than that.

Fili came up on Kili's other side and dragged him away from Airemis. His manner was playful enough, but there was a fair amount of annoyance in his eyes. He looked Airemis up and down a moment, his brow furrowing. "That isn't the sword you had before," Fili said.

Airemis looked down at the long sword hanging at her hip, glad for the distraction from her troubling thoughts. "No, the Dunedain ranger, Dagget, gave me this."

"What happened to your sword?" Kili asked, sending an elbow into his brother's ribs.

"The orcs took it," she said. She still regretted the loss, though she knew there was nothing for it. And, it was better she lost the sword, even if it was a memento of her mother, than her life.

"Oh no," Bilbo said, his expression glum. "I'm sorry, Airemis. I know how much that meant to you."

"It was your mother's?" Fili asked.

Airemis nodded.

"Where is she?" Kili asked, his voice and his expression soft. "You're mother, I mean."

"She died," Airemis said. "A very long time ago."

Kili and Fili shot her pitying looks, which Airemis hated. All her life people had taken pity on her for not having a mother. Often folk had attributed her strangeness, her love of adventure and the wilds to her lack of womanly influence. It didn't help that her father was considered an odd enough Took to have taken an elf for a wife, and for not choosing to settle down close to his blood relatives, but rather making a home in the woods of Green-Hill County, just west of Buckland. He had built a small cottage (not a hobbit hole at all) that was large enough to accommodate his wife, but that did not stand the test of time, over all. Hobbits were not known to be master carpenters of plank and mortar homesteads, and there had been much gossip surrounding Airemis's father's most unusual dwelling.

When Nethenthia, Airemis's mother, had died, her father had lost any desire to keep up with the house. It had quickly fallen into disrepair and all through her childhood Airemis could recall nights spent beneath a leaking roof, or cold wind howling through the clapboards. Her father had loved her, Airemis knew, but nothing had replaced the wife he lost. And nothing could replace the mother that Airemis had so briefly known.

"It's a sad thing to lose one's parents," Balin said, snapping Airemis from her musings. She was falling into a bad habit of retreating into her thoughts lately, and when she looked up it was to see that most of the dwarves were now sending her sad looks. Even Thorin was casting an eye at her from over his shoulder, though his expression appeared to be carefully blank.

"Yes," Airemis said, but she felt awkward. She hadn't realized that everyone had been listening in, and she didn't want anyone else's sympathy. Her mother had been gone for many years, and though she still felt the twinge of loss, the regret of never having really known her, Airemis didn't feel the same pain at losing her mother as what she felt when she thought about her father. She _had_ known him, loved him dearly, and his death had been like a dagger to her heart.

"Most of us have lost someone we cared about, as well," Balin said. "Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, children, even. Nothing can quite dull the pain, except for time. We all move on with our lives, make the best of it we can, as we know our dear ones would want for us. But always we remember them."

And then Airemis realized that they were not looking at her with pity or sympathy, but with _empathy_. These dwarves had known a loss so great, so powerful, that it was nearly unimaginable. They lost their friends and family, their precious keepsakes, their homes, all to the avarice of one foul beast: the dragon Smaug. And even the younger dwarves, though they had not witnessed the sacking of their parent's home, understood the ramifications and all that they had missed out on.

"But all will be made right," Airemis said, with conviction. "We will take back your home from the dragon. It won't bring back those that you loved and lost, but we can avenge their deaths and suffering, if nothing else."

"Yeah," Ori said. "And I'll give that dragon a kick in the gullet, for good measure, I will!"

The other dwarves all groaned and rolled their eyes at his antics, and Dori gave him a whack upside the head.

"Don't be an idiot," Dwalin said. "You'd be roast up like a leg of lamb before you got within three feet of Smaug."

"Lamb?" Oin said. He had lost his ear trumpet to the goblins, and he misheard more often than not now. "Who has lamb? I'm sick of honey and cream!"

"Stop before you hurt yourself," Gloin said, slapping the old dwarf on the back. "Nobody has any lamb."

"I want meat!" Oin insisted. "Don't hold out on me!"

"We could catch some squirrels," Bofur said. "Though I think he's nutty enough without."

Airemis grinned, glad to see the dwarves in good spirits. They had been traveling through Mirkwood all day, not stopping to rest, and the gloom had begun to sink upon them all, making their shoulders droop and their feet scuffle across the ground. To see them all talking and joking again was enough to raise her own spirits, which, admittedly, had begun to drag as well.

"Almost like watching children, isn't it?" Bilbo asked her quietly. His face was a mask of patient suffering.

"I don't mind," Airemis said. "I think they're funny."

"_Funny_ like a joke?" Bilbo asked. "Or _funny_ like a mental imbalance?"

Airemis laughed. "Funny as in they entertain me. Funny as in they know when it's okay to take life less seriously."

Bilbo nodded in understanding. "I just wish they'd stop talking about lamb. They're making me hungry!"

* * *

They kept on down the path for quite some time, one hour slipping into the next without notice, until Thorin finally pulled them to a stop. Up ahead their way was blocked by a stream that cut through the forest. The water was dark, shining like obsidian in the shadows beneath the trees.

It was, Thorin knew, the very same stream that Beorn had warned them all about. The bear-man had told them that the water was enchanted and that it would not be safe for them to either drink or bathe in it. A shame, too, for they were running low on water and most everyone was in desperate need of a bath, himself included. He felt as though his body were weighted down twenty pounds with grime and filth. His nails were black crescents, his chain mail had a dusting of soil and leaf detritus he couldn't seem to shake, and his hair and beard were itchy from too many days unwashed.

Looking around, he could see no one fared much better. Dwalin's bald head had a dusty sheen, Balin's white beard had started to turn grey at the ends, even Fili and Kili were starting to look ratty and disheveled. In fact, about the only one amongst them that didn't look as though they had climbed out from a grease pit was Airemis. Her face was clear of dirt, her hair was still a glossy brown, and her clothes, though shabby, were not stained or torn. He attributed this to her elf blood, after all, he had never seen a dirty elf before.

Thorin knelt at the bank of the dark stream and peered down at the water. There had to be a way across, though there was not enough light under the canopy of leaves for him to see across to the other side. The stream could have been fifty feet across, for all he could tell.

"Well this is great," Dwalin said, dropping his pack on the ground and staring at the stream in exasperation.

"How are we going to continue on?" Gloin said. "We can't cross through it."

The other dwarves, upon seeing the water that blocked their route, all began to grouse and huff on about their rotten luck, and how on earth they'd get across until Fili and Kili suggested throwing Bilbo across with a bit of rope.

"He can tie his end to a tree and we can all climb across," Kili explained. Some of the others nodded in agreement, and the poor hobbit went completely white in the face at the prospect of being tossed through the air like a sack of old potatoes.

Thorin considered this for a moment, and then said, "And if we only manage to throw the hobbit into the stream? What then?"

His nephews shared a look, but neither had an answer. Thorin was happy that Fili and Kili were trying to find a solution, but he wished they would think before they spoke. If there was one important life lesson he wished to impart upon his nephews, it was to always use their heads and to rely on rational thought. But they were young and eager to prove themselves, and he knew it would be a long time yet before they truly understood that every action had consequences that they must plan for.

"There's a boat across the water, on the other bank," Airemis said suddenly. She came to stand next to Thorin and, even with her sharp elven sight, she had to squint to see across the water.

"On the other side?" Bilbo asked. "Why couldn't it have been on this side?"

"How wide is the stream across?" Thorin asked.

"Not far," she said. "Twelve yards at the widest point, I would estimate."

"Better than we could have hoped," Balin said.

"We can't jump it," Thorin said. "Nor can we swim or wade it."

"Can you throw a rope across?" Bilbo asked. "Try and snare the boat, perhaps?"

Airemis turned and smiled brightly. "That's a great idea, cousin."

Thorin felt a strange thrill roll through his chest and down to his stomach as he watched her smile. It was a lovely sight, he admitted grudgingly, and some part of him resisted taking that smile from her face. But there was a flaw to this plan and he had to voice it. "And if the boat is tied up? Even if we could hook it—which is doubtful—how would we pull it free?"

"It's difficult to tell in this light," Airemis said, squinting again. "But I believe the boat has just been pulled onto the bank."

"No harm in trying," Dori said.

Thorin stared out across the water for a moment. He couldn't see the boat, couldn't even begin to guess where the opposite bank began in the darkness, but this was the only idea they had. "Fasten together enough length of rope and attach one of the hooks from our packs."

The dwarves tied together several of their strongest ropes and on one end they twined a metal hook that had been used to hold together the straps on one of their packs. Fili and Kili, who were the youngest and had the best sight, went to the edge of the bank and, once they had general idea where it lay, tossed the end of the rope out toward the boat. The metal hook plunked into the water and they had to drag it back, being careful not to let the water that dripped from it touch their skin.

They tossed it again, but this time they heard a great crashing in the undergrowth across the stream. They had overshot and it took a mighty tug to pull the hook from where it had lodged between some roots.

"Again," Thorin said, and they hauled up the rope and threw it once more across the stream.

"You've got it!" Airemis said. "Pull gently now and see if it will take hold."

Fili and Kili pulled at the rope lightly until they felt the hook catch on one of the boat's seats. They gave a cheer and all of the dwarves took hold of the rope and began to pull the boat across the water. Apparently the little boat had been moored to the other bank and they had to use all of their combined strength to snap it loose, but soon the boat was floating within reach.

"Who will cross first?" Bilbo asked, giving the boat bobbing on their side of the bank a wary look.

"I will," Thorin said immediately. "And you, hobbit. Also Airemis and Balin." When he said this Airemis looked up at him suddenly with a startled look on her face. Thorin wasn't sure what would have surprised her so much, unless she had thought he was going to just leave her stranded on this side of the path. That would be dishonorable, forsaking a lady to wander the forest with no food and little water, and besides, he had learned his lesson about trying to leave her behind before. "Next will be Fili, Kili, Oin and Gloin. Then Ori, Nori, Dori and Bifur. Bofur and Dwalin after. And Bombur will come last and alone."

"I am always last and alone," Bombur suddenly complained. "It's someone else's turn now."

"You're always last and alone because you weigh enough for two dwarves," Thorin said harshly. The day had been wearing long and he just wanted to cross the stream and be done with it.

"You should not be so fat," Dwalin agreed.

"I could go with him," Airemis spoke up. She wasn't looking at Bombur when she said this, but was glaring at Thorin and Dwalin as if they were great bullies. "I don't weigh much, and Bombur is right. It isn't fair to always make him go last and to always send him on his own."

"No," Thorin said, and directed his own glare at her. He would not stand for his dictations to be questioned. "I don't want to risk the boat sinking and the both of you falling in that foul water."

She looked like she was going to argue with him further, her eyes were glittering and her brows were pulled in indignation, but Bombur placed a hand on her shoulder and said, "Thank you, miss. But I will cross alone." And Bombur offered up no more objections.

Satisfied, Thorin turned to the boat and carefully entered. There were two bench seats, wide enough for two dwarves to sit comfortably side by side. Bilbo boarded next, taking the place next to Thorin. Then Balin and Airemis, who still looked a little miffed, took the seat across. Dwalin pushed them into the water and Balin took the rope that they had caught the boat with and threw it to the opposite bank. When the hook took firm hold of the ground, he and Thorin began to pull the boat across the water.

When the boat bumped the other shore Thorin was the first to jump out. His feet hit the muddy soil and his blood trumpeted in his veins with the small victory. One obstacle on the long road left to Erebor down, many left to go.

Bilbo bumbled out of the boat next, looking a bit motion sick. He scrambled up the bank and collapsed at the base of one of the trees, breathing heavily. Thorin couldn't help the aggravated sigh that slipped passed his lips. He liked the hobbit well enough, but he grew weary of Bilbo's flustering.

Balin was next out of the boat, and when he stepped out and the weight became uneven, the boat began to rock and sway in the water. Without a thought, Thorin reached forward, grabbed Airemis round the waist, and lifted her out. She was so small his hands nearly wrapped completely around her, and he could feel her bones through her skin. It should have felt grotesque, the rolling of those delicate bones against his palms, but it only reminded him of how tiny she really was. Not like dwarf women, who were stout and naturally muscular.

"Thank you," Airemis said, when he had set her on her feet. She met his eyes briefly, but then looked away as if she were uncomfortable.

They tied one end of the rope onto the boat and secured the other end into the ground before kicking the little vessel back across the water. Soon the other dwarves were all coming across the water and joining them safely on the path. Bombur was last, pulling himself slowly across and grunting loudly.

Thorin, who was quickly becoming impatient, yelled for Bofur, Bifur and Dwalin to help pull Bombur across. He wanted to be able to put some distance between themselves and the river before night fell. The water was ominous and he didn't fancy spending the night so close to the stream. Bofur and the others took hold of the rope and began to pull Bombur in until the boat hit the bank.

Bombur rose, and the boat seemed to sink a little lower in the water. He untied the rope from around the boat and used it as leverage to climb out, but just at that moment there came a flurry of sound from behind the dwarves.

It sounded like hooves on the forest floor and they all spun around to face the noise. A giant deer was hurtling straight for them, and charged through them before they could even think. Thorin jumped back and yelled for Kili, "Quick, shoot it!"

Kili loaded his bow and fired an arrow just as the beast took a flying leap over the stream. The deer landed on the other bank, but the arrow had struck true and they all heard as it crashed down into the undergrowth and went still. The dwarves all cheered as thoughts of fresh venison turned through their minds, and Thorin thought that finally their luck seemed to be improving. But then he heard Airemis and Bilbo both gasp.

"Bombur's fallen in," Airemis cried.

"He's going to drown!" Bilbo wailed.

And, sure enough, Bombur had slipped from the boat the moment the deer had sailed over his head, and had submerged in the water. The boat had been pushed into the swift current and was quickly floating away, but the dwarves were only concerned with Bombur. His hood was still sticking above the water, but the rest of him was hid beneath the surface.

"Throw him the rope," Thorin yelled. He was right at the bank and contemplating whether he should just jump in and fetch the other dwarf, enchantment or not.

Dori quickly unlatched the rope from where it was secured against a tree and dropped the hook-end into the stream near Bombur. His hand caught the hook and it took Oin, Gloin, Thorin and Dori's combined effort to pull his waterlogged and immensely heavy body from the stream. Bombur was completely drenched, but that was the least of their worries, for he was also unconscious.

Bombur lay upon the grass as if asleep, with a strange and wistful smile on his face and a firm grip on the rope. They tried to rouse him by slapping him across the face, by tweaking his nose and peeling back his eyelids. Ori even took out a bit of food and held it under Bombur's nose to try and tempt him awake, but it was all for naught.

"There's nothing for it," Thorin finally said, cursing their bad luck and the loss of the boat—for now they could not go back and retrieve the deer—and Bombur's clumsiness. "We will make camp here, though I do not like the idea of sleeping so near this water."

"We could attempt to carry him," Bofur said, though no one looked much inclined to do this, at least not unless it were a last resort.

"Let us drag him a little farther up the path," Thorin said. "Then we will break for the night."

It took four more dwarves to heave Bombur up the path, and as soon as the stream was a good thirty feet behind them, they unceremoniously dropped the fat dwarf back to the ground. Bombur seemed to take no notice and only slumbered on.

The company huddled close together on the path and divided up a very small dinner. They were running dangerously low on food, even with the extra that Airemis had added when she joined them, and even after a meal they often went hungry.

They spoke very little as they ate. The felt robbed of their venison dinner, the first bit of meat any of them would have had in so long a time, and it was too easy for small loses to weigh heavy in such a dark and dreary place as Mirkwood. Thorin himself was feeling quite morose, and only suffered a decline in his mood as the shadows lengthened beneath the trees and night snuck upon them.

"I will take the first watch," Thorin told the company. He could see how exhausted everyone was and how badly they needed a rest. Besides, he didn't think he'd be able to sleep at that moment anyway. His heart was burdened with too much gloom and disappointment to find solace in sleep.

The others all pulled together, as they always did at night, and lay down upon the ground. A few mumbled beneath their breath in aggravation at how sour their day had turned, but soon, the night air was reverberating with the sounds of their snores.

Thorin leant back on the roots of a large tree and stared out into the darkness. He could see the many eyes that always crowded them in the night staring back at him from either side of the path, but nothing else. All around was black, dismal black. He hated this forest. He hated this darkness. He hated the creatures that lingered just out of sight and made such a game of staring at them.

Thorin wanted to be rid of this place. He wanted—yearned—to see the Erebor. To lay his hands on the rocky roots of the Lonely Mountain. To smell the salt and mineral scent of dwarvish tunnels, and to taste the cool breeze that broke against the mountainside on his tongue. He wanted to run his fingers over the throne that had so often held his grandfather's figure. He wanted to trace the veins of gold that cut through the walls, and to walk the pathways that flowed and intersected through the heart of the mountain.

His chest filled with a terrible ache as he thought about the home as he had known it some sixty years before. How must things have changed? What would he find when he returned? Would the banners on the walls be turned to ash? Would Smaug have destroyed the throne room, the great stone bridges and archways? Would anything remain whole?

It didn't matter, Thorin told himself. They could rebuild whatever was lost. They could rebuild and improve. The most important thing was that they reclaim their home, which meant driving out the dragon. This Thorin knew, and yet, he had no idea how they would accomplish it. For all of his planning, he still didn't know what to do about the dragon. Kill Smaug, of course. But how? Ordinary weapons, axes and swords and arrows, had done nothing against the beast when first he attacked. What weapon could they use?

There was a noise to Thorin's right, a soft rustle that broke him from his thoughts. He turned swiftly, thinking one of the forest creatures had thought to try its luck, and started to pull his sword from the scabbard when a voice said, "It's me."

Thorin relaxed, but only slightly. "What are you doing up, Airemis?"

She settled down near him and was quiet for a moment. He heard a plucking noise, as though she were pulling up grass. "That's twice now."

"Twice what?" he asked.

"Twice that you have called me by my name and not addressed me as 'elf'," she said.

Thorin was a little surprised by this. He knew he had treated her unfairly, and though he still couldn't look at her without seeing an elf, he had also started to see beyond that distasteful heritage. She was smart and strong—in her own way—and Thorin was willing to admit that she had a place amongst this company, even if she was a woman. But he truly had not noticed that he had been so…so _neglectful_ toward her as to not even call her by name.

Airemis cleared her throat, perhaps uncomfortable for bringing up the issue, and said, "To answer your question, I can not find sleep. I feel restless this night."

"What troubles you?" Thorin asked, grateful for her change of topic. He was finding it more and more disturbing anytime he considered his feelings and his actions when it came to her, and this distraction was most welcome. It really had been easier when he could just hate her.

"We are moving closer to the wood elves home with each day that passes," she said.

Thorin looked to her sharply, though he could see nothing but blank darkness. "How do you know this?"

"The woods are growing less foul," she said. "And my own unease is growing."

"Why would you feel ill at ease to travel closer to elves? They are your kin," he said gruffly. He did not take well to the idea that he was close to the elf that had betrayed his grandfather. The elf that had stood by and watched Erebor consumed by the dragon and done nothing. Thranduil. How Thorin hated him.

'They are not my kin," Airemis said. "I have no great affection for the elves of Greenwood."

Thorin considered this a moment. "I would think that you would feel a kinship to all of your kind, as I feel toward any dwarf, whether they are from Erebor or the Iron Hills or any other part of the land."

"Perhaps I would feel a kinship, if there _were _any others of my kind," Airemis said. "I am not just an elf, but also a hobbit."

"And you feel more of a connection to hobbits than to elves?" Thorin couldn't believe this. His impression of hobbits were that they were nice enough, but valued their comforts too much to know of the world beyond their cozy holes and flowering gardens. This was not the impression he took of Airemis. She was too vibrant and lively to live out her days in the quiet green hills of the Shire.

"No. I don't feel a true kinship to anyone but Bilbo, and he really is my kin," she said. "You know, in all of the world there is no other like me. There are a few other half-elves in the world. Mostly the children of one elven parent and one human. But a hobbit taking an elf wife? Unheard of."

He nodded his head, though of course she didn't see it. "And what was that like? Growing up knowing you are the only of your kind?" He wasn't trying to inspire bad memories, he was just curious.

"Not too bad. I had Bilbo as a friend and my father doted on me. I was never without love," she said.

"And you lived with just your father?" He remembered her saying that her mother had died. Thorin's own mother had been dead for many years, and he often still thought of her and the warmth of her arms.

"Yes. It was just the two of us for a long time."

"And your father? What became of him?"

"He died. He lived to a respectable age, for a hobbit, and he passed on in his sleep. It was the way he always said he wanted to go, quiet and peaceful," she said softly.

"You miss him," Thorin said. He could hear it in her words, an echo of the same loss he felt whenever he thought about his father or his grandfather.

"Everyday."

They were quiet for a time, just sitting next to each other. When first he had laid eyes upon her, Thorin would never have thought he would feel so comfortable in her company. But that's exactly what he felt: comfortable. Like he was in the presence of an old friend. And then it hit him. Airemis Took, half-elf, was his friend. How that had happened, how their relationship had changed, Thorin didn't know. But when he looked at her he no longer felt disgust and anger. He saw a companion, one whom he could, dare he say, trust?

"Why is it that you do not like the wood elves?" Thorin asked.

"I had a bad experience the last time I visited," she said, but she sounded hesitant to go on.

Thorin was tempted to question her further on this, but decided to allow her some secrecy. Whatever her reasons, the fact that she did not care for the wood elves—of which Thranduil must surely be included—made him respect her just a tiny bit more. He did not cherish the idea that they were closing in on wood elf territory, though. They would have to be very careful not to draw attention to themselves. The last thing he wanted was to cross paths with a bunch of elves.

Airemis yawned suddenly. It was a soft sound, little more than a sigh. Thorin, though still very much awake, felt an improvement in his mood, and said, "Why don't you go try and rest? Tomorrow will dawn soon enough and you will be wishing for a few moment's sleep."

"Yes," she said. "I think I shall try, at the very least." She stood and started to make her way back to the sleeping pile of dwarves, but she stopped and said, very quietly, "Goodnight Thorin. Thank you for talking with me."

"Goodnight," he said. "And perhaps the next time we speak, it can be on more pleasant topics."

She laughed then, a sweet tinkling sound in the gloom of the night, and headed for bed.

* * *

So there it is, chapter nine! Bombur's fallen in the enchanted stream, Thorin and Airemis had a conversation in which no insults were thrown, and Azog is scheming! Next chapter, SPIDERS!


	10. Chapter 10

Hello, sorry for the delay! School and work are kicking my butt! But I am hoping to have another update by this weekend, so you shouldn't have to wait quite as long for the next installment.

Thanks for the continual support! You all make my day!

Warning: This chapter contains the use of a foul bit of language. Just letting you know up front!

* * *

Chapter Ten: What Dreams May Come

* * *

The next day was worse for the company than all the days since their arrival in Mirkwood combined. The path was just as dreary and seemingly unending on this side of the stream, the trees just as crowded and the shadows beneath the eaves just as long and menacing to their eyes. They were terribly hungry and the food was running low, which made for a depressingly slim breakfast. They were thirsty, and only reminded of their thirst by the dreadful stream that lay behind them, gurgling mockingly. And what was worse, they had to split into alternating teams of four to carry Bombur's still unconscious form between them, while the fat dwarf snoozed on, a blissful smile spread over his lips. This made for grueling work, and the dwarves were none too pleased about it, huffing and cursing under their breath.

Airemis informed them all that they were, in fact, nearing the eastern edge of the wood, but the company remained mostly dour and uninspired. They couldn't detect the subtle change in the colors of the forest, the way the leaves shifted from nearly black to deep green, how the trees were less clogged with thick ivy and the brambles had begun to retreat from the edges of the path.

The air had lost some of the scent of root rot and decay, and Airemis could feel magic in the air. It was very faint, but she recognized the sweet tang of the elves' enchantments. It was the same charm that surrounded Rivendell and Lothlorien; a ward against evil, a repellant to foul creatures that might think to enter the elves' territory. It was powerful magic and it should have made her feel more at ease. After all, the closer they traveled to Thranduil's woodland palace, the safer they would be from the dark things that lurked in the forest. But all she felt was a growing dread.

Her last visit with the Greenwood elves had ended suddenly and rather poorly. She had left far earlier than she had planned, and even if she hadn't, Airemis felt certain she would have been forcibly removed. She had really only visited to read up on the history of her race, poring over ancient tomes and scrolls of parchment. Rivendell had the largest and most well maintained archives, of course, but Thranduil kept a rather bountiful collection as well.

She had meant only to learn more about her elven heritage and to see if she might be able to attain an idea of what her future would hold in store. She had not been exaggerating when she told Thorin that she was the only one of her kind, and, naturally, she had always been curious about what to expect out of her life.

Airemis had never meant to draw attention; she had kept mostly to herself and only bothered to leave the archives when she was too hungry or sleepy to read on. She certainly had never meant to draw the king of Greenwood's attention. She had tried to ignore the way his eyes would follow her as she left a room, or how he would often pop up from nowhere when she was alone in a corridor. He would always engage her in conversation (he was very interested in hobbits and the Shire and most particularly in her own strange heritage) and she couldn't help her own exuberance as she spoke about her beloved cousin, Bilbo, and their times together.

Thranduil had been an attentive listener, not to mention that he was something of an historian. He answered many of Airemis's questions and showed her his collection of treasures and memorabilia from all over Middle Earth, explaining the significance of each or how he had come to own them. He had told her of the wars that had ravaged the world in every age, of the infamous dark days in which Sauron had reigned dark and supreme over Mordor, and of the attack on Erebor by the dragon. She had soaked it all up, asking question after question, though she had already known much of what he spoke about from childhood stories. Still, her father had been a simple hobbit and had not known much beyond basic details about war or the evil that had once been.

Slowly, Airemis had started to enjoy Thranduil's company, in a way. She still felt that he was arrogant and that he devoted too much pride to his collection of rarities, but she had stopped avoiding his stares and had begun to think of him as a mentor, of sorts. And then…the _incident _had occurred.

That's how Airemis thought of it, an incident, and a most unfortunate one at that. An incident that changed everything. Sometimes she wondered if she had reacted poorly, if perhaps, she could have been more…_diplomatic_, and somehow salvaged the strange friendship that had been kindled between herself and Thranduil. But she had been shocked. Repulsed. And she had reacted the only way she could in that moment, and in so doing, she had greatly offended the king. She had left without a word of goodbye—another insult—and had not returned since.

Airemis had never spoken to anyone about what had happened, not even Bilbo. She didn't like thinking about it and often cast her memories of her time in Greenwood to the back of her consciousness. It was embarrassing and she always felt disturbed and oddly guilty when she reminisced about the events that had transpired eight years ago. And now that she was back in the forest, so very close to the elven kingdom, it was becoming harder to keep her mind from such unpleasant memories.

She cast a surreptitious look toward Thorin and couldn't help but wonder how he would react if she were to tell him of her time in Greenwood. Would he be angry? Amused? Indifferent? She didn't know; he was unpredictable when it came to his emotions, though she leaned more toward anger. He had a foul temper, she had noticed, especially in anything concerning elves. She could have told him last night, but she had been afraid that such a tale would inspire yet more animosity and she had only just begun to earn his respect.

"What thoughts could possibly inspire such a strange look upon your face?" Bilbo asked.

"It's nothing," Airemis said, waving him off and plastering on a smile. "I was just thinking about the last time I was in these woods."

Bilbo nodded. "When you visited the elves? I remember that. You came to my house and told me about all of the stories—most of them dreadful, mind—that you read or heard tale of. But I recall that you seemed most disturbed about something. A none-too-pleasant experience, you called it. I take it you wouldn't fancy stopping in for a chat?"

"I'd rather carry Bombur piggyback through the mountains," Airemis said.

"Oh, and I'd let you," Bofur said, coming up from behind them. He was holding the small of his back and wincing. He had just been relieved from carrying the obese dwarf by Oin, and he was covered in a thick sheen of sweat and sounded as winded as if he had been running for miles. "Though I'd suggest a brace, or you'll be wishing for a new spine when all's done and said."

Bilbo looked back at the four dwarves currently heaving Bombur down the path and grimaced. "Still no sign of waking, I suppose?"

"Not unless flatulence counts," Bofur said. "I'll never volunteer to carry him from the foot-end again."

Airemis laughed. "I've heard him break wind in his sleep enough to know that shouldn't be taken for a sign of his impending return to consciousness."

Bilbo pulled a disgusted face. "This is hardly a polite line of conversation."

"You're right," Bofur said apologetically. "Perhaps we can discuss how you're going to help us defeat the dragon, Bilbo."

The hobbit turned a little pale at this and darted his eyes about uncomfortably. Airemis shot Bofur a sly smile and said, "You're right. We should all like to know, Bilbo, how you plan on sneaking passed Smaug."

Some of the other dwarves had turned their attention toward Airemis, Bilbo and Bofur, looking amused or curious. Fili and Kili, who were currently carrying Bombur by the arms, managed to share a mischievous wink over their load.

Bilbo sputtered, "I hardly think…that is to say…with circumstances as they are…when the time comes…is this really the place to be making rash decisions about something so important? And why should the planning come down to me?"

"Well, you are the burglar, are you not?" Bofur asked, his face a mask of innocence. Some of the dwarves chuckled and Bilbo looked more flustered than ever.

Airemis patted the hobbit on the shoulder and said, "No worries, cousin. We'll figure it out. I doubt Thorin would throw you to the beast without a plan." She looked up at the leader of their group and he met her eyes, though there was nothing particularly welcoming in his expression. Thorin looked carefully neutral, betraying no emotion, which was better than him glaring at her. Still, Airemis had hoped that the levity of the moment would have penetrated his tough veneer enough to inspire, maybe not a smile or teasing comment, but _something_. Some sign that he appreciated having his mind removed from the gloom of their current trek through this hated forest. But Thorin merely turned back to the path and continued on without speaking.

The other dwarves took this as a cue to resume their own silent marching, though the atmosphere amongst the group didn't seem quite so despairing any longer. At least, no one was murmuring mutinously beneath their breath or glaring daggers at the tree trunks.

Airemis gave Bilbo a reassuring smile and when it looked like his constitution had not suffered too much damage from the teasing, she let her thoughts wander again. This time, however, they focused not on her own past experiences, but on Thorin's.

She watched as he walked at the head of the group, her eyes taking in the straight, hard lines of his body as he moved. She had never thought to attribute such words as graceful or majestic to a dwarf, there was something too rough and wild about their race for such terms, and yet, that was exactly the way in which she would describe Thorin. He moved with purpose and power, and his strength of body and his fortitude of will were evident in each step, in each swing of his arms. He carried himself with such confidence and resolve, and a fair amount of menace. Airemis could see the way he scanned his eyes through the woods, sharp and in anticipation of attack. Though she couldn't imagine anything stupid enough to want to attack him when he had such a look on his face!

Airemis had to wonder about the many trials and tribulations in Thorin's life. Things had not been easy for him. She figured if she had lived to see her home lost, her people scattered, her grandfather beheaded by a hideous pale orc, her father driven insane with grief, and then been forced by necessity to lower herself to working menial jobs in human villages for little pay and even less respect, that she'd feel bitter too. And yet, despite the grudges he held, there was something in Thorin that had kept him holding on, that had driven him to build a life for his kin in the Blue Mountians, that had brought him to Bilbo's hobbit hole and onto a quest to reclaim his true home.

Courage, leadership, strength, ambition, integrity. Airemis saw all of these things in him. And she hadn't been lying when she told him that she admired him. There were many layers to Thorin Oakenshield, and though many were not entirely pleasant, she thought that she would like to see them all.

* * *

It truly seemed that the forest would never end.

Thorin, who was anything but a patient dwarf, was beginning to feel his frustration bubble over inside of him. His feet were aching, his back felt stiff and his arms were quivering from having to take a turn carrying Bombur. His stomach was growling angrily and his tongue felt dry as sand. The woods seemed to close in on them from all directions, which only fed his ire. His body seemed to be running on pure aggravation rather than energy. It was, all in all, a dangerous situation for anyone who dared approach him, for he felt as tightly strung as a bow, and as likely to fire off on whichever unlucky soul happened to cross him.

This was his mood when he called the company to a sudden halt, about an hour before sunset. Ori, Nori, Dori and Dwalin all droped Bombur onto the ground and groaned with the relief of losing their burden.

"Hobbit," he barked, snapping his fingers to get Bilbo's attention.

The halfling looked surprised to be addressed by him, but approached nonetheless. "Yes?" he asked, a bit warily.

Thorin pointed at the closest tree and said, "Climb up and see if you can detect an end to this forest."He could feel Airemis's glare at his gruff treatment of her cousin, but she was wise enough not to voice any complaint.

Bilbo gulped and looked ready to make an argument himself, but one withering look from Thorin was enough to make the hobbit reconsider. Bilbo picked a tree and began to climb, though it was slow-going at first since the limbs were thick and spread far apart on the trunk. But eventually the hobbit was able to pull himself through the leaves and all but disappeared from their view.

"Have you reached the top?" Thorin yelled.

"Yes!"

"What see you?"

All of the dwarves and Airemis had huddled at the base of the tree, staring up expectantly, hopefully.

"Just trees," Bilbo called down to them. "The forest goes on forever and ever in all directions!"

The dwarves all groaned at this and Thorin called Bilbo back down. The hobbit took longer climbing down, unsure of his footing and blinking as his eyes readjusted to the dimness. Thorin, tired of waiting, finally reached up and grabbed Bilbo by the back of his shirt and hoisted him down. Then he rounded on Airemis. She backed up a step, clearly startled by his intensity.

"I thought you said we were nearing the edge of the forest?" he demanded.

She straightened her spine and met his gaze without flinching at his tone. "We are, but there will still be several days left to go before we find the path's end."

"You have traveled this road before, lass?" Dwalin asked.

Airemis shook her head. "I have never taken this path before. Though I know enough of the forest to tell you with certainty that the miles left between us and freedom from these trees and shadows are numbering far fewer."

"Then we shall all take comfort in your knowledge," Thorin said acerbically, dropping his pack on the ground. Airemis shot him an affronted look, but he was too tired and miserable to take care. "We will make camp here tonight. Bofur, divide up some dinner for everyone." Thorin turned and started to walk up the path, away from the others.

"Where are you going?" Bofur asked.

"To sort out my thoughts," Thorin said, and then, when it looked like Fili and Kili might follow, he added, "Alone."

He ignored the inquiring looks being sent his way and continued down the path, letting the darkness swallow him from view. He didn't go far, maybe forty meters in all, but the path curved a bit through the trees and soon he heard only the faint chatter of the group behind him. Satisfied to have a bit of privacy, Thorin settled onto the ground, resting his weary body against the trunk of a tree and letting his eyelids flutter closed for a moment.

He had slept little the night before, his mind too occupied with thoughts of Erebor and Smaug and their proximity to the wood elves, and from the moment he woke that morning had felt an all-consuming agitation. It was not the sort of crankiness that comes from too little sleep and long days trekking through monotonous woods. No, this boiling restlessness was a culmination of his desire to leave Mirkwood, his overexposure to the obnoxious group of his kin, his anticipation to see his long lost home, his uncertainty about how to handle the dragon, and his unease at being so close to those that had betrayed his grandfather sixty years ago.

Thorin felt a mental and physical exhaustion that he had never known before. For the first time in his life he felt _old_, as if all of his years had suddenly come to rest like stones upon his shoulders. For so long his determination and resolve had been enough to stave off the creep of age that had whitened Balin's beard, had carved long lines in Oin's cheeks, had stripped the hair completely from Dwalin's scalp. But he felt it now.

He opened his eyes and stared up at the dark canopy of leaves. There was no way to see beyond them to the sky overhead, but he could imagine the pinks and golds that would be streaked behind the clouds as the sun started its descent into the west. He had always liked sunset best, when the sky would glow with those last few rays of light, the day's last stand to the night, and then the stars would start to twinkle into view, looking very much like diamond dust spread over dark velvet.

He hated the nights here. There were no sunsets, only the ever-growing shadows. There were no stars, only the hundreds of staring eyes in the forest. It was, Thorin thought, very much like a prison here in Mirkwood. Caged in by the trees with little light, no fresh air, and only the company of foul, miserable creatures.

There were footsteps approaching him from the direction of the company. Thorin sat up and shot an annoyed look at the dark outline that was drawing nearer, though he couldn't quite make out who it was. He opened his mouth to tell the fool off, to order them back to the others and stop intruding, but the person spoke to him first.

"I come bearing the gift of food," Airemis said. "No matter how bad a mood you're in, I know you must be hungry." She came to a stop in front of him and held something out to him.

Thorin took the small offering of stale cake with its dollop of sweet cream. "Thank you," he said, a bit gruffly.

"You're welcome," she said and turned to leave him.

Thorin, though he had intentionally sought out solitude, suddenly found himself reaching out his hand and taking hold of her arm. She halted and cast him a curious look. He dropped his hold, but said, "Stay."

Airemis seemed a bit perplexed by his request—_demand,_ more like—but she obliged by taking a seat on the path in front of him. She fidgeted for a moment, looking unsure. "I thought you had wanted to be alone?"

"I did."

"And now you do not?"

"I do not mind your company," he said, a little shocked by the truth of that simple statement. No, he did not mind her company. In fact, it was quickly becoming the opposite. Though she was stubborn and reckless and defiant, he liked being around her. There was something calming about her presence. She made him feel hopeful, youthful. As if he really could defeat a dragon and reclaim his lost home.

"That's good," she said, "because you're stuck with me, I'm afraid. You would not rather eat with the others?"

"No," Thorin said. "I think it best if I give myself some space from them, lest I take to beheading them all."

"That would be rather unpleasant."

Thorin bit into his cake. It was a meager meal, hardly enough to count as a snack. But the food was running too low to do much better. He went to take a bite and then noticed that Airemis had not brought anything for herself. "Have you eaten already?"

She shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

He frowned at this. He couldn't remember her eating anything for breakfast that morning either. And at lunch she had taken only the smallest amount of honeyed bread. Of course, he knew that she did not possess an appetite as large as a dwarf (or a hobbit, for that matter), but it occurred to him that she might be denying herself meals so that everyone else had more to eat. It was a foolish thing to do, starving herself so everyone else might have a bite more for dinner. And yet, he couldn't help but be a little awed by such sacrifice.

Dwarves were not often known for being unselfish, or for thinking more about others than of themselves. In fact, most thought that dwarves were so ruled by their greed that they could neither understand nor appreciate generosity. This was a terrible misconception, of course. Thorin had known many honorable dwarves who had made great sacrifices for the good of their people. Though, it was true that many dwarves were influenced greatly by their more avaricious impulses, they still recognized and cherished the good deeds that others did for them.

And Thorin could definitely appreciate the fact that Airemis was willing to let her own stomach remain empty to ensure someone else's might be full. Still, now that he knew, or at least suspected, what she was doing, he couldn't let it continue. Thorin tore off a hunk of his cake and thrust it toward her.

Airemis startled at the sudden gesture. She looked from his eyes to his outstretched hand and shook her head. "No, that's the only supper you're going to get tonight."

"I won't allow you to starve," Thorin said. "At least not any more than the rest of us. Eat."

His tone would brook no argument, and Airemis didn't make one. She tentatively took the bit of cake he offered and said, "Thanks," before biting into it. Thorin returned to his own even more pitiful meal, finishing it off in a couple of bites.

He watched her then, in the growing darkness under the trees, as she chewed her food slowly, methodically. She wasn't looking at him. Her gaze was fixed to the ground, watching the circles she was spinning in the dirt with her fingertips. He wondered then what she was thinking about, and then he wondered why he would wonder such a thing.

"You are not what I had expected," Thorin said. She did meet his eyes then, and she looked confused and apprehensive, as if she worried she had somehow disappointed him. "You are not the arrogant, cold-hearted elf I had assumed you to be. Instead you are giving, kind, warm, an enigma, if I ever saw one. You rush into dangerous situations with no heed to your own life. You stick up for those you feel are unfairly targeted. You are not afraid to fight for the things in which you care about. You are not at all who I had thought you to be. In fact, you baffle me."

Airemis swallowed, and, though it was too dark to tell, Thorin thought she might be blushing. "It is kind of you to say such things."

"I'm not saying it out of kindness," he said. "I am rarely ever surprised by people. Your cousin, Bilbo, is one striking exception. And you, of course. It is frustrating to have you challenge me so."

Airemis laughed then. "_Me_ challenge _you_? No, I believe it is the other way around! Your pigheaded willfulness has been a great trial to my patience, sir." Her voice was teasing, and Thorin couldn't stop the little thrill that went through him when she called him _sir_.

"So that is how you see me, is it? As a pigheaded brute that forces my will upon others?" His lips were quirking up just the smallest bit.

"Well, I wouldn't use the term 'brute'. Perhaps 'bully' or even 'tyrant'," she said in mock consideration.

"Be still your serpent's tongue, elf," Thorin said, "Before this great tyrant is required to take action against you."

Airemis laughed quietly for a moment, and then went silent. She was looking at him, her expression contemplative. "I heard many tales about you before we ever met. Stories of Erebor, of your father and grandfather and the dragon. I always had this picture in my mind whenever your name was mentioned, an image of what I thought you must be like."

"And am I like the image you had of me?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, you are not at all what I was expecting, either."

"How do you mean?" Thorin wasn't sure why he was so interested in her answer, but he could feel a tight knot of anticipation in his chest.

She smiled and tilted her head to study him, "You're younger than I imagined, for starters. Taller and more muscular, too. And you're very handsome, which might have been the biggest shock of all."

Thorin felt floored and more than a little flattered by this assessment. She thought him handsome? A jolt of pleasure pulsed through his body, warm and fluttering in his veins. "You were thinking I would be more like Balin, perhaps? White and withered? Or have a giant, ugly nose like Dwalin?"

Airemis shrugged. "I guess I thought you would be more…_dwarvish_ in appearance. Stocky and hairy and rough. But you're very refined and elegant."

Thorin didn't stop the laugh that boomed out of his chest at this. No one had ever accused him of being refined before. "You have much to learn about me, if you have taken such an impression."

"Oh, I don't think you are so pleasant _all _of the time," she said, smiling wider and more brightly. "But when you're happy, it's really something to behold."

He didn't quite know what to say at this. Her words had shocked him, confused him. She spoke of him being handsome, refined, elegant. She made such bold and admiring statements about him. Things that he had never heard anyone say about him before. He had been called courageous, strong, competent, and driven. But no one had ever, with just a few choice phrases, made him feel _desirable_. It was a strange feeling, but not unpleasant.

Airemis was starting to look uncomfortable, as if she wished she had not said so much. She shifted, looked around, and then rose to her feet. "It's getting very dark," she said. "Perhaps we should make for the others now?"

Thorin rose as well and noticed just how close they were standing. Her head was less than a foot from his chest. He could, with minimal effort, reach out and touch her, cross this small gap between their bodies. He wondered what it would feel like to close his arms around her. Would she feel as fragile and small as she looked? Would she fit against his body?

He shook this thought off immediately. He didn't know where that sudden desire had come from, but it was better for everyone if he quickly forgot it. He stepped away from her and said, "Yes, it will be time to set up the watch."

They walked back to the camp in silence.

* * *

Dagget clutched his spear tight in his fist and met the orc eye to eye. It was a hideous creature, pale as porridge and riding a white warg. There were other orcs there, too, though they mostly stayed back, sneering at him from atop their grotesque mounts.

"Where is the girl?" the pale orc asked him, showing a glittering arsenal of razor-like teeth behind his lips.

Dagget, who had stayed near the edge of the forest since he had helped the girl, Airemis, enter them, backed up until his feet crunched against the dead leaves and twisting roots that reached out from the dreaded woods. His time as a ranger had trained him in the art of battle, in how to remain calm in the face of many enemies. He didn't waver, didn't let fear take hold of his heart. "Go fuck a troll, you ugly beast," he spat.

The pale orc narrowed its icy eyes and the others began to shriek in outrage. Dagget just laughed and pulled his sword free from the scabbard with his free hand. If he was to die this night, he thought, he would do it with as much fire and fight as he could muster. He spread his feet in a defensive stance and raised his weapons before him.

The orcs pulled forth their own weapons and, as a great angry mob, all charged forward to overtake him.

Dagget let a smile pull over his lips as the thrill of battle began to simmer in his blood. Yes, this was the way he wanted to leave this life.

* * *

Airemis awoke with a gasp, her heart pounding a hard rhythm in her chest. She placed a hand on her sternum and pulled in deep, steadying breaths. She looked about the camp at the sleeping dwarves, and felt herself relax a little as she realized she had only been having a nightmare, though she couldn't recall what it was about.

Still, there would be no sleep for her now, so she stood up and stretched her limbs. So many nights sleeping on hard ground had not been kind to her muscles and she could feel knots forming. What she would do for a warm, herb-infused bath and a real bed!

Airemis stepped over Bilbo's sleeping form and headed toward Gloin's hunched form. He had been in charge of the last watch and it looked as though he must have dozed off. She thought it would better to wake him now than let Thorin discover him sleeping on the job.

It was when she started to shake him awake, however, and her eyes once again began to roam the camp, that she noticed something was wrong. Someone was missing!

"Gloin!" she said loudly.

The dwarf, and few others, startled awake at her exclamation. "What is it?" he said, jumping up and looking at the woods as though he expected something to jump out of them.

"Bombur's gone!" She pointed to the spot in which the fat dwarf had been dropped the day before, and, as she said, he was now nowhere to be seen.

The other dwarves had all woken up at this point and were looking around in a mild state of panic for their lost comrade. Thorin was on his feet, scouring the edges of the path with an almost frantic intensity.

"Over here," Bilbo suddenly yelled. They all turned to him and the hobbit pointed to a patch of undergrowth that had been recently disturbed. The leaves were trodden, twigs snapped, the dirt upturned as if by heavy feet. "It looks as though he has strayed from the path!"

The dwarves all groaned and cursed. None of them wanted to go looking in the woods, especially since they had been repeatedly warned not to stray from the path. Airemis volunteered but Thorin quickly and forcefully shot her down.

"It is too dangerous," he said, and his expression made it clear that he was still angry that she had already crossed through the forest to reach them in the first place.

"We can't leave him out there," she said. "What if he never finds his way back? He'll die!"

Thorin looked torn, before he finally nodded and said, "Alright. We will go and find him. But we all go and we all stick together! No one is to run off on their own for any reason. Am I understood?"

Everyone nodded, looking glum. Thorin didn't wait a second longer. He turned and followed the trail of devastation that Bombur had left through the undergrowth. It was not hard to follow in the fat dwarf's tracks, and sooner than any had dared hope, they found their lost companion.

Bombur was standing between a couple of trees, staring out into nothing and mumbling under his breath about a great feast and all of the wonderful foods that would be served. He didn't respond at first when the others called to him. In fact, he barely paid heed as Thorin clasped his shoulder and spun him round to face the group.

Bombur blinked several times, then he seemed to finally notice all of them there. "Oh," he said, "have you all come for the feast? I was just about to go myself."

The other dwarves all shared startled looks. "What are you going on about?' Dwalin asked.

But Bombur turned suddenly and began running further into the forest. "Come on, we mustn't be late or all the good food will be gone!"

Thorin shouted after him, but Bombur did not stop. The others had no choice but to give chase, and were all surprised at how quickly the rotund dwarf could run. They chased him for nearly ten minutes before Bombur suddenly stopped and pointed ahead.

"There it is!" he yelled. "Can you see the lights? Can you smell the roast meats?"

Airemis looked but only saw more trees ahead. She was about to tell Bombur this, to assure him that what he saw was only a hallucination borne from his fall into the enchanted stream, but Kili suddenly shouted, "I see it! A camp fire!"

"I can smell mutton," Fili said, sniffing the air.

"And ham," said Ori.

"Bacon," Bilbo moaned.

Airemis stared at them all as if they had gone insane. There was no campfire. No roasting meat or smells in the air, other than the normal smells of the forest. And then she remembered that this was not a normal forest. This forest was full of strange magic, both of the elves and of a darker sort. Whatever they were all seeing and smelling, it was not real. It was an illusion.

"There's nothing there," she said.

The others all looked at her disbelievingly.

"We can see it with our own eyes," Gloin said.

"Your eyes have been deceived," she pressed. "We must make back for the path."

Everyone scoffed at this. They were too hungry, too deprived of the comforts and luxuries to pay her warnings any heed. They would take whatever risks necessary in order to get a good, hot meal. Even Thorin was ignoring her.

"We'll approach carefully," he said. "We can't be sure who the fire belongs to. We will request their aid."

The other dwarves all cheered at this but Airemis felt dread creep down into her stomach. Thorin led them forward to the spot where Bombur had pointed out the feast, but when they arrived and burst through the trees all of the dwarves groaned and shouted in surprise.

"It's disappeared!"

"What happened to the fire?"

"Who took the meat?"

Airemis said in exasperation, "It was never there to begin with!"

But no one paid her any attention for suddenly Oin pointed into the distance and yelled, "There it is! They've only moved it." And the dwarves all ran for the spot.

This happened several more times, their running to where the feast was supposedly taking place, only to find the spot empty. Then someone would point into the distance and off they would go again. Finally they came to a stop and Thorin said, "Enough! We will never catch them."

Airemis had stopped trying to convince them all that there never had been any feast, nor fire, nor smell of roasting meat. Instead she remained vindictively silent as the dwarves bemoaned their loss.

"Which way do we go to get back to the path?" Bilbo asked, turning round on the spot and squinting into the woods. The others all looked around as well, trying to get their bearings.

"Oy, Airemis," Fili called. "Can you remember from which way we've come?"

Airemis glared at all the dwarves in turn. "Oh, so now you want to listen to me?"

"Do you know or not, lass?" Dwalin said.

Airemis pointed a finger back through the woods, but said nothing else. She was tired and thirsty from so much running, and her arms were scratched up from stray branches and brambles. She spoke naught a word to anyone as they made a much slower journey back to the path. No one said anything more about the feasts, though Bombur kept sending longing looks into the forest and several times one of the dwarves would stop and take an appreciative sniff of the air.

They had strayed much farther than Airemis had thought and soon night was falling upon them. They would not be able to travel in the dark, so Thorin called for them to make camp in a small circular clearing between some oaks. No one was very comfortable with this, least of all Bilbo, who kept muttering about the eyes in the forest.

They huddled close together, so Airemis was still sore with everyone and kept to the outside of the group. They split up the last of their provisions, which did nothing to improve their mood since now there would be no more food and they had lost quite a bit of time, running about the forest and chasing after imaginary feasts.

When night fully settled upon them and everything grew black, Airemis snuggled in closer to Bilbo. She kept her ears trained to the forest, waiting to hear anything suspicious moving about, but all remained quiet for so long that she eventually allowed herself to relax into sleep.

This was a mistake.

Too soon she was startled awake to a most unpleasant sensation. Something sticky and thick as rope was being twined around her body from her feet up her torso. It took a moment for her to realize what it was, but then she felt it. Great hairy legs, eight of them, bristling over her body. She was seized up, twisted over and over as more sticky thread bound her up. She would have gone for her sword, fought the thing off, but her arms were already clamped down, so she did the only thing she could think of.

She screamed, "Spiders!"

There was a great cacophony of voices then as the dwarves all woke, finding themselves in very similar situations. She could hear them struggle, curse, flail about, but it didn't seem to be enough.

As the spider that had hold of her finished binding her, and moved to scuttle off with her as a prize, Airemis could hear the sound of many more feet following: more spiders with their own burdens to carry.

Airemis gulped back her acid panic and tried to think of a plan, of a way to escape. Oh how she wished Gandalf were here! He would know what to do. But he was gone away south, and they were stuck to handle the situation themselves.

But how on earth were they going to make it out of this one?

* * *

So, not as much of the spiders as I had originally intended for this chapter. And I took a bit of creative license with the imaginary feasts. That part happens a bit differently in the book, but for the purposes of this story, I changed it up.

A little teaser about the history between Airemis and Thranduil, which will be fully explained in future chapters. Thorin's a little broody in this chapter, but I always think of him as being the type to grow sick of people's company pretty easily and need his "alone time".


	11. Chapter 11

Hello all! So sorry for the long wait. I had to leave town for a family emergency (I won't bore you with the details of my family drama) and I didn't have a chance to write. I promise that I will never make a promise for a speedy update again, though. Life is too unpredictable.

Anyway, thanks for your support with this story and all the reviews, favorites and follows. It is much appreciated.

Some of the content from this chapter comes from The Hobbit (novel) which I do not own, and some of it comes completely from my imagination, which I do own.

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Attercop

* * *

It seemed the spiders carried them a very far way, though Airemis couldn't be sure in the pitch-black darkness. She couldn't see anything, but she could feel the hairy legs of her eight-limbed captor, and the night air rushing passed her. She didn't have to yell out to know that the others were with her; she could hear the sounds of their struggling and Dwalin letting loose some _very _creative curses.

Airemis pulled and wiggled, trying to loosen the sticky bonds that held her limbs tight to her torso, but it did no good. Her captor merely readjusted its hold on her and continued on. She could feel tree limbs snagging at her, leaves adhering to the bonds and sticking in her hair.

She tried not to dwell too much on what would happen when the spiders finally stopped. She had seen enough of the giant webs with their half-rotted skeletons to know that whatever fate awaited them would not be pleasant. They needed a plan, some way to get free before the spiders could eat them. But how? Airemis racked her brain, trying to think of anything useful that she knew about spiders.

…They have eight legs…they build webs to trap their prey…they like dark corners and the musty space beneath floorboards…they dislike heat. Well, that would be promising, if they had anyway of creating a fire.

Airemis suddenly felt her captor drop from the trees onto the ground, jostling her around as it braced its other legs and began to scuttle between trunks. The canopy had become too dense for the spiders to traverse with their burdens, so they formed a horrible line between the trees, marching single-file toward their destination.

When the spider had dropped Airemis felt something cold and heavy bang against her leg, and realized, with no small amount of joy, that her sword was still strapped to her hip. She could feel the scabbard against her thigh, rubbing over her breeches. The bindings must have loosened from the spider's jump! She could move her legs just the tiniest bit, and it seemed that the ropes were losing their stickiness. She twisted and shifted around, feeling her clothes start to pull away from the bindings. Her fingers brushed against the hilt of the sword.

It was slow, hard progress, but progress nonetheless. She twisted her wrist, the skin pulling and chafing against her sleeve until she could wrap her hand around the hilt of the sword. She strained, the muscles in her back and neck going taut and sweat beading down her spine, as she tried to pull the blade and her arm free. She felt the smallest nudge, the sword shifting up into her hand, but it wasn't enough. At this rate it could take hours to get free, and she figured they had very little time to come up with an escape.

The spiders suddenly slowed their pace and all took to the trees again, dragging their prizes into the leafy boughs. Airemis's head banged against a limb, and, luckily, her side scraped over a rough patch of bark. Some of the threads came apart and she could feel more freedom of movement in her arm. She wiggled her elbow loose and would have tried to free her entire arm, but her spider captor pulled her up from where it had been carrying her beneath its body.

She caught a terrifying glimpse of the creature's fangs as it spun some more thread and hung her from one of the lower branches of an old oak tree. She swung dangerously over the ground as she fought harder than ever to get her arm free. The threads ripped and snapped, but there were so many and her arm was getting tired from the struggling.

There was a horrible clicking, rustling noise then. It was too rhythmic to be unintentional, too measured and inflected to be anything but speech. The spiders were _speaking_ to one another! It took her a moment, but beneath all the clicking and clacking of their mandibles, Airemis was able to understand what they were saying.

"It was more work than expected, but well worth the effort," one spider said.

"We'll see," said another. "They have thick skins and smell even worse up close than they did from afar."

"No worries," said a third spider. "They'll make a fine meal, once they've hung for a bit."

"Don't hang them too long," a fourth hissed. "They are not as fat as I'd like. Missed too many meals, I'd wager."

"We should just kill them already," said the first spider. "Let them hang dead for a while. I like it when they've started to fester a bit."

"They're dead now, I'd say," said the second.

"No they ain't," said the third. "I've just seen them struggling. And they wiggled enough when we brought them through. I'll show you." And with that the spider began to climb back into the boughs from which the dwarves and Airemis now hung. It scrabbled through the leaves, shaking the entire branch with its movement.

Airemis pulled her arm back tight against her side as the spider came to a pause only a few feet from her. She closed her eyes tight and sucked in a deep breath as she felt one hairy leg brush over her head, her heart hammering, waiting for the creature to take notice of her loose bindings. But the spider paid her no heed, and instead passed right over her to where Bombur hung.

The spider crept down the rotund dwarf's side, bracing itself on his belly. Bombur's face was mostly covered by webbing, but his nose stuck out quite a bit and the spider, feeling its way up the dwarf's body, stopped when it reached the jutting extremity. Airemis watched as the spider leaned in, its mouth moving intimately close, and for one absurd moment she thought the beast was going to kiss Bombur. But then the dwarf let loose a great yelp and kicked the spider hard in the abdomen.

The spider fell from the tree and landed on its back, its legs churning the air. It took several rolling heaves and the assistance of one of the other spiders for the creature to right itself. The other spiders laughed, horrible hissing chuckles in the dark, as their fallen comrade started back up the tree, though with a noticeable limp in its foremost legs. "I'll kill him for that! I'll kill them all!"

Airemis squirmed and yanked her arm viciously from the bindings. Her shoulder, the same one she had injured after their flight through goblin time, flamed with agony but she ignored it and tugged her sword free from the scabbard. It was awkward trying to cut herself loose with only one arm and the tree limb swaying and shaking under the burden of the dwarves and the angry spider's scrabbling ascent. She sawed at the thick, sticky rope that bound her, but not fast enough. She could feel the tickle of little hairs ghosting over her head again. She wouldn't be able to free herself in time!

But just as the spider had reached Bombur and lowered its head in position to sink its fangs into the dwarf's neck, something came whizzing through the air and struck the spider right on the head. The creature fell back with a pained squeal and landed with a crash in the undergrowth. Its legs curled in on itself and the spider remained motionless.

Another stone flew through the air and snagged through a web, cutting right through the middle and striking another spider down. It fell dead to the ground next to the first. The other spiders erupted into a panic, ignoring the dwarves and turning about, searching out their mysterious attacker. They threw out their threads in all directions, ensnaring trees and bushes and each other, but unable to find their enemy.

Airemis didn't waste any time. She slashed at her bindings with a fury, the threads raining down to the ground below. Soon she was able to pull her other arm free, then her torso, and finally her legs. She took hold of the sticky rope that had held her bindings, replaced her sword in the scabbard, and climbed up to the tree branch. Once again, it was slow progress. Her hands kept sticking to the rope and the threads kept trying to trap her legs again. But finally she pulled herself up onto the branch and braced herself against the nauseating swaying and dipping of the limb.

The chaos on the ground was moving further away. Whatever had attacked the spiders was leading out into the forest, which gave Airemis the perfect opportunity. She slid down the tree branch until she came to the first sticky rope. Carefully she pulled her sword back out and started to cut through the bindings. It was a long drop to the ground, but dwarves, Airemis knew, were tough and would survive the fall without injury. She would have to be more careful when she reached Bilbo. Hobbits were not as sturdy as dwarves, and she couldn't imagine letting her cousin drop to the ground and risk breaking his much more fragile neck.

The bindings tore free from the limb and Bombur fell to the forest floor with a thump and a grunt. The branch bucked from the loss of his weight, and Airemis nearly tipped off herself. Suddenly she heard a voice singing in the woods. It was faint, but she recognized the voice and a cold drop of dread hit the bottom of her stomach.

Bilbo sang:

"_Old fat spider spinning in a tree!_

_Old fat spider can't see me!_

_Attercop! Attercop!_

_Won't you stop,_

_Stop your spinning and look for me?"_

It wasn't the best song she had ever heard, but Bilbo, Airemis realized, was doing his best to distract the spiders from the dwarves, much like he had done with the trolls. Hobbits, her cousin included, were creatures of habit. They relied on tried and trusted methods, on the things they knew worked best. If distraction worked against monsters once, then it stood to reason that it work equally well again. Airemis just hoped Bilbo knew what he was doing.

She started back down the line, cutting through bindings and letting the dwarves drop. She was about halfway down the line, her shoulder screaming, her hands cramping from gripping her sword so tightly, when she felt the branch shudder behind her. Startled, Airemis turned, only to come face to face with the dripping fangs of an incredibly fat spider. It leapt at her and she yelled out in surprise. She tried to bring her sword up to slice through the spider's legs, but only succeeded in blocking the snapping mouth from latching onto her head.

The momentum was too much. Airemis and the spider both flipped off the tree branch. She was lucky to fall on top of Bofur's wiggling body, though the impact still sent a jolt of pain through her body and her breath gasped from between her teeth. The spider had landed on its feet and wasted no time on charging right at her. Airemis lifted her sword, but her whole body was aflame and aching and her hand trembled so badly she nearly dropped the blade.

The spider was nearly on her and she thought, sort of absently, that this was not the way she had imagined she would die. She had always envisioned being killed in some grand and glorious battle, not eaten by a hairy, eight-legged creature. Of course, it seemed that more and more often she was facing down death and she hadn't succumbed to it yet. So she lifted her sword and readied herself for the assault. But it never came.

The spider reared up with a sudden screech and then fell to the side, legs curling in. It was dead. Airemis stared at it, dumbfounded, before she raked her eyes over the forest. "Bilbo?" she asked, feeling stupid.

"It's me," he answered, panting.

She squinted. "Why can't I see you?"

"Oh, right," Bilbo said, and then she heard a rustle in the bushes and he popped out from behind a tree, holding his little sword which was stained black with blood.

"I can't tell you how happy I am to see you," she said, pulling him into a quick hug. She tried not to think too much about the danger he had put himself into, or how he had been able to sneak around without being seen. She squeezed him tightly and let go. "We need to free the others."

Bilbo nodded and began cutting through the bindings of the dwarves on the ground as Airemis scaled the tree again and set to sawing the spider threads from the branch again. Soon all of the dwarves were on the ground. Those that Bilbo had freed helped to pull loose the others until they all stood there, angry and sore, but alive despite everything.

Airemis climbed back down from the tree. Her body was throbbing and she could feel fresh scratches and splinters across her palms, down her arms. She was nearly to the ground, but her limbs were shaking so badly from exhaustion and relief that she feared she would simply fall to the ground and be unable to pick herself back up. Her hands slipped on the bark and she started to tumble from the tree, but before she could drop a pair of hands grabbed hold of her and swung her down to the ground.

She braced her hands on a warm, solid chest as her feet found the ground. The hands on her waist didn't slacken their grip, and she could feel the thick, strong dwarf fingers digging into her flesh. She looked up, her heart tripping over itself, and saw Thorin staring back down at her. There was a bit of spider web still stuck to his clothes and hair and he looked immeasurably tired, but even in the darkness she could see the intensity of his eyes as they ran over her, assessing, burning. She wished she knew what he was thinking.

"Are you alright?" Thorin finally asked.

"Yeah," she said, and then noticed that her hands were still resting on his chest. She pulled them back, trying not to think about how small her hands had looked against him, or how warm his body felt. She cleared her throat awkwardly and felt heat spring up in her cheeks. She wasn't sure where these thoughts were coming from, or why she seemed to feel so jittery around him. "Thank you," she said.

Thorin nodded wordlessly and removed his hands from her ribcage, though the phantom heat of his fingers still lingered. Airemis took a step back and rubbed her arm uncomfortably. She didn't know what to say to him but was spared having to flounder for words when Dori suddenly cried out, "They're coming back!"

They all spun around and pulled free their weapons, and, just as Dori had proclaimed, the spiders were now bursting back at them through the trees. A rush of adrenaline lit through Airemis's body, staving off her crushing exhaustion, and as the spiders came upon them, shooting webs and snapping fangs, she met them with calculated stabs and slices.

The dwarves fought valiantly, unwilling to be trussed up and hung from a tree again. They hacked at legs and cut through abdomens, sending the spiders reeling back with pained hisses and squeals. But when one spider fell there was another to take its place. It seemed that they materialized from the trees, from the underbrush, from the very darkness that loomed in upon them. It seemed they would never see the end of these beasts!

And then Bilbo suddenly appeared between Thorin and Airemis, his sword dripping dark blood and a fever in his eye that she had never seen before. "I'm going to disappear again," he said, addressing both Airemis and the dwarf king. "I will draw them away. You must keep everyone together and head back toward the path. You remember the direction?" he asked Airemis.

She hesitated. The spiders had carried them a long way, and it had not been a straightforward path, but she thought she could recall the way back. Still, she didn't like the idea of Bilbo playing bait, even if he did have some way of making himself disappear, as he'd said. "I can find the way," she said. "But what about you? How will you find us?"

"I will manage," Bilbo said confidently. And then he reached into his pocket, gave his cousin a wink and disappeared from view.

Airemis gasped, staring at the spot Bilbo had just occupied. She looked at Thorin and met his equally startled gaze. He seemed to recover first though. He roughly took hold of her arm and dragged her through the whirlwind of swinging blades, gnashing fangs, and flying limbs. Behind them she could hear Bilbo's voice yelling taunts at the spiders. At first it seemed to have no effect, and then, one by one, the spiders backed off the dwarves and began to pursue the invisible hobbit.

Thorin took the lead. "Come, we must make haste and return to the path. No dallying. Keep your weapons at the ready!" He dashed into the woods at a brisk run, not bothering to wait and make sure everyone followed. There was no need; no one would be questioning the need to put as much distance between themselves and the spiders as possible.

They ran for a long time, and covered a great distance, going further than the spiders had carried them. Airemis tried to keep pace, but her body was losing the energy borne from battle and her limbs felt as though they were turning soft as butter. Soon she had fallen to the back of the group, farther back than even Bombur. She didn't know if she would be able to keep going much longer. It seemed her lungs were about to burst, and her arm was throbbing.

It was terrible luck that she had taken her bag off to sleep, for now it, and the tisane and poultice that Dagget had given her, were lost somewhere to the darkness. How she could have used such medicines now!

"Airemis? Are you okay?" Fili asked. He had dropped back after noticing she was struggling along at the rear. He gave her a concerned look.

"Are you hurt?" Kili asked, falling in on her other side. His eyes roamed over her body worriedly.

"I just took a hard fall from the tree, is all," she said. Even landing on Bofur, the jolt had been painful. At the time, the heat of the moment, the instinct to fight and ensure her own survival had been so great that it had been a little easier to ignore her body's protests, but now they were back and more insistent than ever. She wished she could just lay down somewhere.

"Perhaps we should ask to stop," Kili said.

"No," Airemis said. "We need to carry on. Get as far away as possible."

"We've covered a fair distance," Fili said. "And I'm not sure you have much more left in you."

"I could carry you," Kili offered, and looked a little too enthusiastic about the prospect.

Airemis shook her head. "I'm really okay. Please don't worry about me."

The brothers shared a glance, and before she say another word, Kili leapt to a stop in front of her, sinking to his knees. She wasn't able to stop in time and crashed into his back. He took hold of her legs and pulled them around his waist. He stood up quickly and Airemis dropped her sword and had to hurry and latch onto his shoulders, lest she fall off.

"Put me down!" she protested. Behind her Fili had gathered her sword up and was following after, chuckling in amusement.

"You're too tired," Kili said. "Just relax."

"But you'll only tire yourself, with me as a passenger," Airemis argued.

Kili laughed. "I helped carry Bombur when he fell unconscious. I think I can suffer your weight without issue."

Airemis wanted to argue some more, but it was an undeniable relief to be off her feet and to let her body unknot. She slipped her arms around Kili's neck and rested her head against his back, careful to avoid the quiver full of arrows that was strapped there. It was true that dwarves were strong and resilient, and she didn't doubt that her weight would be an insubstantial burden. But still, she couldn't stop thinking how unfair it was that she was able to hitch a ride when all the dwarves were probably as tired as she and still able to carry themselves.

Before she could worry for too long, though, Thorin was calling the company to a halt. His chest was heaving and his face was streaked with sweat as he surveyed everyone, making sure they had left none behind. When his eyes met Airemis's and saw to whom she was currently clinging, they narrowed and something dark swirled within them for a moment that made her heart stutter in her chest. But then he looked away and she sank from Kili's back onto her own sore feet.

"We will wait here for Bilbo," Thorin said.

"Wait here?" Gloin asked. "What if the spiders come for us again? I think we should move on."

"I don't like these woods," Ori agreed, staring into the trees in trepidation.

"We should find the path," Nori said. "The hobbit knows to make back for the path."

"The hobbit," Thorin said, his voice steely and brooking no more argument, "led the spiders off so that we may escape. We will not abandon him to these woods. We will await his return here."

"And what if he doesn't find us?" Bofur asked, looking concerned. He and Bilbo had become pretty close over the course of the journey.

"Then we will go back for him," Thorin said, as if that should have been obvious.

Airemis felt relief balloon inside her chest. She too had worried that Bilbo might not find them, but it lifted her spirits to hear Thorin say that they wouldn't just leave him to rot out there. She smiled and Thorin stared at her for a second, as if transfixed, before he tore himself away and ordered everyone to find somewhere to rest.

"Oin and Gloin, you have first watch," Thorin said, leaning against a tree trunk and sinking to the ground.

Airemis cast another apprehensive look into the forest, praying that Bilbo found them soon, and then lowered herself to the ground. She lay on her side, nestled between Fili and Kili (and ignoring how they both crowded in on her), and let her eyes slide shut. Her body slowly relaxed, but even as sleep crept over her, her mind focused on her cousin and all the things that could be happening to him right at that moment.

It seemed she had only been asleep for a few minutes before she was woken to the sound of a commotion. She sprang upright, just as Fili and Kili jumped to their feet, drawing weapons and swinging around groggily. The other dwarves were all up and readying themselves for another fight, when a voice called from the woods, "It's me! I'm back!"

And then Bilbo emerged from the bushes, looking more than a little winded and bruised, but still alive and intact. The dwarves all greeted him and Airemis patted him on the back, so happy to see him that she could have wept. Everyone wanted to know how Bilbo had managed to disappear and how he had led the spiders off. But just as Bilbo was readying to tell the whole long tale, Airemis noticed something that made her throat close with a sudden panic.

"Where is Thorin?" she asked. Everyone paused and grew silent, exchanging confused glances as they scoured the area and saw that their king was, indeed, missing.

"Oh no," Ori wailed. "The forest has taken him!"

"Thorin!" Dwalin yelled, searching the trees near where Thorin had made bed. "Thorin!"

The others joined in the search, none too willing to venture off very far. They circled through the underbrush, yelling and calling for their leader, but to no avail. Thorin had seemingly vanished.

"The spiders came back for him," Gloin said.

"They'll be back for us all," Dori said.

"No," Airemis suddenly called. She pointed to a large beech tree and felt her insides squirm with dread. The beech trees only grew in one place in Greenwood Forest: right outside King Thranduil's palace. "Not spiders. _Elves_."

And then they heard it, the soft musical laughter floating through the trees, haunting and mocking and beautiful all at once. Wood elves closing in around them. The dwarves all huddled close, raising their weapons, but the magic of the elves was too much. It drifted around them, pulled heavily at their eyelids, lulling as a soft bed and warm blanket. Soon they all fell to the ground in an enchanted sleep. All but Airemis, who was immune to such tricks.

She stood her ground amongst the slumbering dwarves and watched as the elves emerged from the woods. They were tall, graceful, fair. Their eyes sharp and their bodies lithe and leonine. Airemis had feared encountering the wood elves, feared she would be met with a face she recognized, and that's precisely what happened. There, amongst the elves whom she did not know, was a familiar visage.

"Well, well. Airemis Took, the half-elf, half-hobbit back in Greenwood, and with a band of dwarves, no less! I had not thought you would show yourself around her for many more centuries, after what you did," the elf said, stepping closer as her comrades encircled the dwarves.

Airemis looked around nervously and noticed, to her sudden relief, that Bilbo was not amongst them. He must have slipped his ring back on and hid in the forest. "It was not my intention to return here, Tauriel. I am not here to rub salt in a wound."

"And yet your presence hurts us all," Tauriel said, a bit sadly. "I had counted you a friend. I adored you. We all did. And then you delivered such an offense when the king made you a most generous offer."

"The true offense would have been in my accepting, not in my refusal," Airemis said.

Tauriel was unmoved. "King Thranduil will want you taken into custody immediately for your trespass. As well as all of your _friends_."

"Trespass?" Airemis asked. "Since when does the king arrest travelers in the woods?'

"Since those travelers wandered into his lands, disrupting the peace and merrymaking of its inhabitants," Tauriel answered. "Arrest them all."

The other elves leapt at the enchanted dwarves and at Airemis, securing them with rope. Airemis was yanked roughly by one of the elves, forced to follow on foot as they dragged the dwarves over the ground.

"Please," she said, "this isn't necessary. We meant no trespass! We were only trying to escape a danger in the woods. We are not your enemies!"

Tauriel cast a cool look over her shoulder. "We will let the king decide that."

* * *

Thorin was no stranger to his rage. That was one emotion, one aspect of his personality, to which he had become intimately acquainted over the years. He knew that his was a monstrous temper, quick to ignite and hard to suppress. He had often struggled with it, biting back hateful words or fighting to keep his fists from striking out. Sometimes he was successful, other times he was not. Age had taught him one trick to handling his anger, and that was silence. To speak naught a word. To immerse himself in quiet and peace until the emotion ebbed away.

That method was not working well for him now.

The elves had snuck upon him in the dark, ensnaring him in their ropes and dragging him through the forest none too gently. His body was sore and scratched and a great deal of leaves and mud covered him and stuck to his beard. It was a terrible insult to dirty a dwarf's beard, but it was nothing to the insult of where the elves had taken him.

He had never been inside these halls before. Never looked upon the richly carved arches and gleaming wooden floors, nor seen the great elk-horn chandeliers with their glittering teardrop crystals. He had never seen the thrones made from smooth, woven branches or the hall that glowed with ethereal light and was hung with swathes of colorful fabric and silver tassels. Thorin cared not for the richness of the place, nor for the smell of fresh roasting meat and the honey-sweet scent of baked cakes.

No, Thorin's full focus was on the figure that sat before him on one of the branch thrones. His chest constricted with the need to let loose a battle cry. His hands burned with the want to wrap around a slender throat. His muscles bunched and rippled beneath his armor in anticipation of a fight. But Thorin did not move. He remained motionless, his face an expressionless mask. As much as he loathed Thranduil—and really, there were no words to describe the depth of that emotion—he would not let the elf king see him so riled. He would betray nothing.

"Thorin, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, King Under the Mountian," Thranduil said softly, "returned at last to this corner of the world. But what, I wonder, were you doing in the forest and so close to my palace?"

Thorin did not answer.

"I know there are others with you. Twelve more dwarves, a hobbit, and an old acquaintance of mine."

Thorin's eyes flitted to the king at the mention of an acquaintance. That would be Airemis. She had said she had visited this palace before, but that things had gone poorly. Suddenly he wished he had pressed her for details.

"Did you think you could pass through so near to my borders without drawing attention? Did you not think we would discover you?" Thranduil's voice was low, quiet, and yet seemed to resonate throughout the hall. He stared at Thorin, trying to discern anything from the stubborn dwarf. But Thorin remained a statue, unyielding.

"What were you doing in the forest?" Thranduil asked. "Why are you here?"

Thorin grit his teeth against the sudden urge to spit at the elf's feet. He would never tell this traitorous scum that he was planning on taking back his home. The elf king was greedy and not to be trusted. He wouldn't risk leveling any information to such a weasel.

Thranduil seemed to be at the end of his patience. "Very well. You can enjoy your stay in the dungeons until you feel ready to talk, even if it takes a hundred years." And then the elf signaled the guards to come forward and take Thorin away.

He was seized roughly by the arms and dragged backward through the hall. Thorin did not scream all the words and curses biting against his teeth, but he did keep his eyes locked on Thranduil until the elf guards pulled him from the hall.

The elves bound him with strong chains and shut him away in a room with a large, sturdy wooden door. They gave him food and drink, enough to slake his great thirst and fill his empty stomach. The elves were despicable, he thought, but not so inhumane as to be like goblins and allow their prisoners to starve.

Thorin rested his head against the wall of the cell, his anger still gnawing at his nerves and burning his stomach with acid. How he wished he could run his blade through that elf king's gullet!

But worse than the anger that still ran its course through his system was the fear biting at the back of his mind. What had become of the others? If Thranduil knew of their existence, then would he also have had them captured and imprisoned? Thorin needed to think of a way out of this, preferably a way that allowed him some victory over the elf king. He would not allow anything to come between him and his quest, and he certainly would not abide anyone threatening his comrades.

There was nothing to do for it now, though, so he would just have to wait and bide his time.

* * *

Oh no, captured again!? Next chapter, Airemis and Thranduil's history revealed! And how does Thorin feel about this?...and that's all the teaser you're going to get.


End file.
